To Find The Missing Lifeline
by EvilConcubine
Summary: After traumatising events of his life Draco makes a hard decision to return at Hogwarts for his final year and finds himself in need of a help. Angst, H/C, MPreg. *complete*
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

This is my first and only story I've ever posted so far. Please, be gentle about my English, because I'm not a native speaker.

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><p><strong>ATTENTION! This story has been edited to avoid problems with MA content!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>To find the missing lifeline<strong>_

_**Prologue**_

Draco's life had changed out of all recognition. He made a decision to go back to Hogwarts to finish the last year of his education. At first he was sure he wouldn't be able to make it, as his only wish was to hide himself from the world and never show up again. But, in the end, he decided to go through it, though he couldn't count how many times he had changed his mind. It was necessary for his future; but, for the most part, it was necessary to outdo his spiteful critics and haters, not to let them know how broken he really was. He'd been living in fear for too long and wanted to change everything. Anything...

All the horrors of the time that he had spent among the Death Eaters disturbed his dreams almost every night. Screams of Voldemort's victims, tortures and murders; Nagini, gorging their dead bodies, or sometimes even those, who had still had a glimmer of life, - that was the most horrifying show. Draco had known that it had only been a matter of time for him to join those numerous victims.

The first time he had failed the Dark Lord when he couldn't bring himself to kill Dumbledore (not that he'd really thought he had been able to kill the headmaster). It had been nothing, but a _**mockery**_ to send a boy to kill one of the most powerful wizards. It had been nothing, but a mockery to send a boy _**to kill**_...

And then he couldn't raise his wand against some muggle-born woman to cast a killing curse on her 'in the name of his Lord'. It was his last chance, but he refused to do it. He just said a quiet 'no', and condemned himself to a horrible death. His father turned his back on him immediately. Before facing his death, the traitor had to be punished first; to pay for his disobedience and, probably, to make the others see what was waiting for those, who were thinking about disobeying their master. Therefore, Draco endured almost three weeks of appalling tortures.

Lucius was more than eager to punish his son, and the Dark Lord himself didn't stand aside of it. Draco wasn't allowed to die or lose his mind. Again and again the broken boy begged his tormentors to stop, but it was only making Lucius even more mad and cruel. It was an affair of honour for him, and he spared nether time, nor strength. After all, his son was just a pathetic, worthless disappointment and a wimp. He'd brought an awful shame upon his family and had to pay. The torture stopped only when he needed healing desperately and his tormentors needed their rest, or when the Dark Lord had more important matters to attend to. And then they started again, and there were countless hours of shocking pain. And finally Lucius dragged Narcissa into the chamber where Draco was kept. Lucius blamed her for giving birth to a disgrace, for raising him like that; so, because of them, the Dark Lord questioned Lucius' own loyalty. The woman cried in misery, seeing her son's battered and worn-out body. Sometimes Draco hadn't been sure if his father was entirely sane, but his doubts dispelled when Lucius killed Narcissa in front of him. He never faltered, casting a curse on her, looking into his son's eyes, full of tears, shock and pain, which was so deep that Draco couldn't scream, no matter how much he wanted to. The cold-blooded murderer left her dead body in the chamber. Injured and completely exhausted, Draco mourned for her and desperately shooed the hungry rats away from her body. Sometimes he pressed his face to her cold shoulder and fell asleep or just fainted when he was given time to rest. He imagined that she was warm and alive, and it was the only comfort he could have.

One night he was awoken by someone, who was touching him through his tattered clothes. Draco was lying curled up on his side next to Narcissa's body. The way he was touched left no doubts about the person's intentions. Draco opened his eyes in fear and saw a big man above him. He recognized him; it was one of Greyback's lackeys. The blond tried to push the man away, but the bastard was much stronger and quickly broke the boy's weak resistance by slapping him harshly across the face. He ordered the boy to look into his mother's lifeless eyes, while he was molesting him. Draco couldn't. But every time he tried to close his eyes or turn his face away, the bastard slapped him hard and turned the boy's face back to Narcissa's, yanking his hair so forcefully that Draco thought that the man would undoubtedly break his neck. When the werewolf started to tear his clothes away from his terribly aching and violently shaking body, Draco cried and begged him to stop. His heart clenched. They had already taken everything from him, but this was simply too much. Thankfully, his cries were heard by someone, who immediately informed the Dark Lord. The beast was cruciated, since it wasn't his place to punish Draco and it didn't befit the Dark Lord's followers to 'taint' themselves by copulating with the traitor. At least, Draco had avoided the unbearable humiliation of being raped.

Narcissa's body was there with him for almost five days. And when they dragged her away, Draco had a fit of hysterics, finally accepting the fact that she was really dead and he'd truly become an orphan. So many things that he had feared for years had finally happened. For so much time he'd been living with the foreboding of some terrible end; with fear, clenching his heart with its iron and cold hand. But all his fears had come true and he had nothing left to lose, so he was waiting for his death as a welcome visitor and a desired deliverance. He even begged to end his life, but that luxury he still wasn't allowed. Many times they drove him to the very edge, and the piercing cold replaced his unthinkable pain. He even saw his mother's face once and thought: _'This is it... My escape...'_ But every time they brought him back in the nightmare, which his existence had become. His bloodcurdling screams and cries amused Voldemort. But later Draco's voice was lost and all he could do was weep silently and wheeze, opening his mouth in silent screams and shuddering in pain, which he hadn't thought could exist at all. He knew it wouldn't last. His heart was aching frequently, he was coughing up blood and sometimes he could hardly breathe. The one, who had been ordered to heal him, couldn't (or already didn't really want to) do anything about it, so Draco concluded that he didn't have much time left to live, and the thought was comforting. He forbade himself to hope.

He didn't know he still had a hope, and his salvation carried the face of a man, whose hands were clenching in fists every time he heard his godson's agonizing screams and saw his unbearable sufferings with his own black eyes. He had a plan, but he needed time, and in his thoughts he prayed gods that Draco had enough time to wait.

Severus had finally picked the right moment and entered the chamber. The boy was lying on the cold floor, dressed in his tattered, long, black robes. He appeared to be asleep or unconscious. Snape approached him and kneeled. There were two small flasks in his hand. One of them was empty and the other one was filled with the light-blue liquid. Draco stirred and winced. He definitely had a high fever. His hazy eyes looked at his godfather and then at the flasks in his hand. Severus knew that the boy was already on the threshold of death, and his torturers had already stopped healing him properly. Draco couldn't even recognize the man at first, due to the damage.

"Are you here to... end..." the boy whispered weakly. His breathing was hard and painful.

"You have to drink this," Severus said almost softly, opening the flask with blue liquid.

"Will that... hurt much? I'm so tired..." the younger wizard murmured, aside from something incoherent that made no sense. He whimpered quietly in the end.

"You won't feel anything and it won't take long. You're just going to fall asleep," Snape assured. Draco didn't believe that Voldemort could really take pity on him, letting him die like this. He wasn't that merciful. Perhaps, it was his godfather's idea, after all. But Draco couldn't bring himself to ask, and, not only was it too hard to speak, but thinking and formulating the words seemed to be beyond his strength. In fact, it hurt so much to think that his mutilated mind was shutting down. Severus lifted his head carefully and helped him to drink the potion. The blond boy drank it willingly, though it was unbearably hard and painful to swallow.

"Thank you..." Draco whispered and a single tear escaped one of his eyes before his heavy eyelids closed. He inhaled convulsively. Severus put his head back on the floor gently and waited.

"Draco, be strong," he whispered. The broken boy shivered slightly and his lips moved just a little. Severus took his godson's wrist in his hand to be able to feel his pulse as much as to comfort him. His hand was covered in dried blood, like most of his body, but Snape tried not to think about the damage now. Draco was falling asleep; his heartbeat was becoming slower and weaker, as well as his breathing. He was motionless now, but, from time to time, his body shivered faintly. It didn't last though. In a few minutes his heart stopped and Draco emitted his last weak breath. He was dead. Severus placed the empty flask near the boy's face and quietly cast a wandless spell in some forgotten language. When he finished, the light-blue streams of smoke started to escape Draco's mouth and nostrils, and it was thin and weak. Its colour resembled the potion that Severus had given his godson earlier. The smoke slowly moved itself inside the empty flask. When it subsided on the bottom of it, Severus corked it up and put it into the pocket of his robes. The flask felt comfortable and warm near his body. Draco's essence of life was inside of it. He took the other flask off the floor and left. He knew that the other man was about to enter Draco's chamber.

Another black-robed man entered the chamber and found the boy dead. He wasn't only a Death Eater, but he was also a mediwizard, and, therefore, he often was the one, who took care of the prisoners to extend their lives when the Dark Lord ordered him to. He cast a spell only to find out that Draco was dead for about fifteen minutes, so there was no way to reanimate him. It wasn't surprising after almost three weeks of severe torture. A mediwizard and a human inside of the man felt relieved somehow, but the Death Eater was concerned that he had displeased his Lord. He left the chamber and headed to the others. The Dark Lord and some Death Eaters were away after their meeting, but some people were still there.

"The boy is dead," he informed the small group, but they didn't seem to care.

Severus was among them. He approached Lucius, who was about to leave.

"Lucius, your son is dead," he said calmly. It was the last chance to see any regrets.

"I have no son. That pathetic boy was not a Malfoy, and he will not be buried as one. Let anyone leave his corpse in the forest, so it would be eaten by animals. At any rate, I have no time for this nonsense," the blond man answered with the cold voice and disapparated. Severus was stunned for a few moments.

Draco's body was wrapped up in black robes. Severus held him in his arms and carried him away from his hell. He apparated to his own house and brought his godson into the guest bedroom. Carefully he put him onto bed and took the warm flask out of his pocket. He opened it and placed it on the nightstand next to bed. The blue smoke looked disturbed inside of the flask when it was taken away from Severus' body. It desperately tried to reach to him, but couldn't leave its glass prison, and moved somehow frustrated and confused inside of it. Snape chanted the incantation, and it was longer than the one that had imprisoned Draco's life. The blue smoke calmed down and began to get out of the flask slowly. The light, pale stream reached Draco's face and disappeared inside his nostrils and mouth, finding a very narrow way between his dry and injured lips. Severus was almost enchanted by the sight of life, returning into his godson's body. The black-haired man sat down on the edge of the bed next to Draco and pressed his fingers to the boy's neck, quickly finding the carotid artery. With fingers of the other hand he carefully lifted Draco's eyelid to watch his still lifeless grey eye closely. All he had to do was wait. The life had to become attached to the body again, and it usually took about twenty minutes. And finally Severus' fingertips felt a small and weak beat. And a few seconds later he felt another one. Slowly Draco's heart came back to life, and he made a small inhalation. His pupil moved slightly and the eye watered. The more normal colour returned to the ashen skin and it warmed up a little. He was alive again. His breathing was shallow and his pulse was still far from normal, but it wasn't Severus' ritual to blame, - the boy's health was undermined by tortures. Draco was shivering slightly; the pain had returned along with his life, but he was too weak and not entirely conscious to react. Severus cleaned his body and tended his wounds. He knew that most damage was internal; however, there still were several burns and cuts, and numerous bruises on his skin. He gave his godson some potions. Draco couldn't swallow, so he managed to do it only with the help of the spells. It made his body relax a little. Severus scanned him with diagnostic spells and found out that most internal organs were damaged; four ribs and left arm were broken. Some fractures had been healed before, however, the bones knitted in the wrong way. They had to be broken again to heal properly. Every time Snape cast a breaking spell, he could hear Draco's small whimpers. Obviously, the boy could feel his bones breaking and heard the cracks through the veil of his semiconsciousness; he winced every time, though he had been stuffed with the strong pain-relieving potion. Severus was utterly careful and concentrated, breaking the bones exactly where they had to be broken with minimal damage to the soft tissues.

It took him about four hours to take care of the damage to the best of his ability. And then he left the blond boy to rest after wrapping him up in two warm blankets that he'd enchanted to keep the comfortable warmth constantly.

He was sitting in his study. It was only then when he finally let out a breath of relief. Draco was saved. Severus found the most harmless way to get the boy out of the Dark Lord's hands. His heart had been bleeding for his godson. It had never showed, since he had almost perfectly trained himself to hide his true emotions behind the mask of the indifference. But he couldn't remember how many times he'd had the intention to send his spy career to hell and just disapparate them both out of there to stop Draco's agony. That would have been most unwise, however. Even if Severus had managed to disapparate with the boy right from the one of the Dark Lord's hide-outs, it wouldn't have taken long for the Death Eaters to track them down and capture them both or just kill them. For now Severus was nothing but a traitor to the Order after he had killed Dumbledore, and they wouldn't be helpful in giving any sanctuary to him and his godson. Besides, they already had enough troubles themselves. And Snape still had his role to play in this war. He'd already sacrificed enough in his life to give it up now and to reduce to zero everything he had managed to achieve with such great efforts. He couldn't allow all of that to go in vain. All he could have really done was make the others believe that Draco was dead, so no one would have tried to find him or make Snape look suspicious in this matter. He'd found a ritual that allowed to take a life away for two hours, or even a little more than that, and then return it into the body safely without harming the health, since Draco's health had already been too weak, and he simply hadn't been able to survive any other similar magic. The problem was that it had taken more than two weeks to prepare the potion for the ritual and the required ingredients were rare enough, not to mention that he'd had to pick the right moment to act, when the Dark Lord had started to lose the interest in his 'toy'.

Draco slept for the next two days, and Severus visited him often to check his vitals and heal him without waking him up. But the next week was nightmarish for both of them. Draco was coughing up blood violently, and he could hardly sleep at all because of it. He suffered from severe headache and heartaches. He was dizzy and drowsy all the time and could hardly realize where he was and, sometimes, who he was. His mind was almost ruined. And, what was more, he couldn't speak. Severus was by his side most of the time. The boy could only stay asleep for an hour or two with the help of sleeping potions, and then he was waking up, because he could hardly breathe, and was coughing up blood again or he was doing it in his sleep. Occasionally, the cough was so severe that he ended up vomiting. Snape did everything he could, and he knew that no real mediwizard could do better. He had no choice, but to be one, because there was no way to take Draco to hospital, - too risky. Some spells and potions were taking effect gradually, so, he hoped, Draco just needed time to respond to treatment properly. During the next few weeks he was sleeping most of the time, he coughed sometimes, but no blood escaped his aching lungs anymore. Severus forced him to eat every day, but still had to spoon-feed the boy, who was too weak even to hold the spoon in his hand or sometimes even to remember how to eat. Draco was still half-conscious. He recognized the man, who was taking care of him and trusted him entirely, though sometimes it was hard to remember who the man was to him. He just knew that he was some kind of a relative and someone trustworthy. Draco's mind was damaged, he could hardly understand the speech at first (not that he heard it a lot, since Severus was taciturn most of the time). He often felt as if he was eviscerated mentally. Sometimes his mind became clearer, but he was convinced that he was going insane, seeing and hearing things. It didn't happen often, fortunately. That was his past laying itself right over his present, so his head was in a muddle, and he was almost in panic or, at least, confused, trying to decide what was real, what was past and what was present. Memories were mostly unclear, fragmentary, desultory; some were just the angry shadows and the incoherent sounds. The thought of losing his mind forever was more than frightening.

When Draco had become stronger, Severus used his knowledge of Legilimency to heal his mind and to help him to find his way to reality. It took many days, but it worked. The recovery was painful and hard for Draco, both mentally and physically. Finally, he was allowed to get up. He had a bad coordination of movements, so for some time Severus was guiding him about his house, holding his arm safely, to prevent him from falling and hurting himself.

Draco's healing was taking time, a lot of potions and a lot of Severus' patience. St. Mungo's or any other hospital wasn't an option, considering that the boy had to stay hidden. His face was well-known in the wizarding world. Would mediwitches and mediwizards take care of him as good as any other patient? Wouldn't anyone try to harm him? Would he be protected from lynching? Anyway, he would become an object of a great interest for the Aurors. News spread quickly and it wouldn't take long for some Death Eater to inform the Dark Lord and Lucius. Severus also wouldn't trust any muggle healer in attempt to hide Draco in some muggle hospital. There was no other really safe place for his godson, and he had to stay with someone he could trust; it was important for his recovery. However, Snape was exhausted, since he also had other matters to attend to, concerning his job; dangerous enough to become careful as never before, because there was a good chance for him to die and leave the boy all alone. When Draco started to feel better, at least, physically, Severus finally had some time to rest. The boy was still mute. It was some post-traumatic outcome, but Snape didn't know what to do about it. All he could do was give him more time. He once approached the door of the guest room, where Draco lived, and heard the muffled sobs. He thought that, perhaps, it was a good sign, but didn't enter the room, deciding that it was better to leave Draco alone for now.

The blond youth was wondering to himself, why his godfather had never been known as a brilliant mediwizard. Draco received a good healing, he, perhaps, would only have got in hospital. The man knew exactly what to do. It probably had also something to do with Snape's diligence and perfectionism; if he applied himself to something, he intended to gain the best results. Somehow Draco knew that his godfather was hiding him and he knew that he was the one who had saved him from the Dark Lord and his mad father. No... Not father. Just Lucius - the Death Eater, fanatic and the monster's lackey, who had murdered Draco's mother. Mother... He couldn't remember her face without crying.

Draco intended to find out the details of his salvation. Did his godfather love him so much that he had risked everything to save him? Wasn't he loyal to the Dark Lord? Or Draco was just more important to him than serving to a mad, inhuman monster, unlike he'd been to Lucius, who had betrayed his own family so easily? His godfather had already saved him before, killing Dumbledore; at least, he had saved Draco's soul. He wanted to know everything, but he'd found out that he couldn't speak, for some reason, to ask his questions. Also his magic was still low and he found it hard to concentrate. When he was reading, he somehow couldn't understand the text properly and forced himself to pay attention, reading the same texts over and over again.

Once, during their breakfast, he tried to attract Severus' attention with the look of his eyes. Without any words the older wizard understood him, and, once they finished eating, he told Draco everything about his rescue. He also told him about his true loyalty, and let Draco know that he was a spy for the Order, even if the Order itself didn't consider him as one anymore, so he was by himself, though the latter wasn't something unusual. He told him everything about Dumbledore's death. So, no, he wasn't Voldemort's servant. Snape was standing at the window, looking outside, when he was telling his story. When he'd finished, Draco stood up quietly, slowly approached the man and held him tight, closing his eyes. Severus was a little surprised at first, but returned the embrace hesitantly.

And then, later, the war was won. Severus was injured gravely in battle; bitten by Nagini and poisoned, but he was saved by a miracle. When Draco was informed shortly after the incident, he stormed into his godfather's ward in St. Mungo's with choking sobs, thinking that the man was dying. Nagini had always scared the hell out of Draco. The fear had been almost paralyzing when she'd been slithering close enough. That snake gave him nightmares, and, he knew, her venom was deadly; even if it wasn't the most frightening thing about her after he'd witnessed her eating people alive. He cried desperately, thinking that he was losing the only man he cared about, losing because of that terrifying, atrocious creature. He knew what it felt like, - to lose; and wasn't sure he would be able to recover after another loss. He spent four days near Snape's bed. Just sometimes he left the ward to roam about the hospital. Severus remained unconscious. Draco hardly ate at all, and slept, sitting on the chair next to bed, ignoring all the persuasions of mediwitches and mediwizards to go home and have some rest. On the fifth day Snape opened his eyes. His life was finally out of danger, and Draco's heart felt disburdened. The man was told about his godson's excessive anxiety that made him settle down in Severus' ward, where he stayed without eating and proper rest. Despite of his weakness, he managed to give his godson hell, scolding him. Draco's answer was a happy and radiant smile, which could melt anyone's heart, as if Severus' angry words were the most pleasant thing he had ever heard. Actually, it was the first Draco's smile Severus had seen for a _**very**_ long time, even if the boy's face looked tired. And yet, Snape remained adamant and sent his godson back to their house. When Draco left the ward reluctantly (or, more like, he was turned out neck and crop) and made his way towards the exit, he stumbled across The Golden Gryffindor Trio. Granger was holding a bunch of flowers in her hand. It wasn't hard to guess that they were going to visit Snape. Draco already knew that Severus had given Potter his memories, thinking that he'd been dying when Nagini had bitten him. So now The Trio knew the truth about his true loyalty, too. Just for a short moment the Slytherin stopped in front of them with his eyes looking down, and they stopped as well. Even if he had something to tell them (and he had nothing), he was mute, anyway. Feeling uncomfortable and confused, Draco passed the Trio hurriedly, without even looking at them. However, he could feel their eyes on his back. He smirked to himself at he thought that the Gryffindorks had picked the wrong time to visit Snape, since the man was in a really foul mood. He also knew that Severus hated hospitals, hated to be ill, weak and nursed, so Draco was sure that he would give a very hard time to St. Mungo's' staff. The thought amused the boy. He could finally relax and have some rest.

Draco visited his godfather every day, bringing him books and the other things he required.

And then Severus became a war hero officially. Not as famous as Potter, of course, to Draco's frustration. But first there had been a trial. Severus, fortunately, was not only discharged, but he also obtained the well-deserved recognition and respect. His name was completely cleared. In his usual vein, he always tried to avoid any attention and especially the reporters. Even Rita Skeeter gave up after some sarcastic and unpleasant comment, which made even her lose her voice and open her mouth as if she was a fish thrown out of the water. So they just let him be to his relief.

Draco was treated differently, however. But he hadn't expected anything better than that. Some people from The Ministry of Magic would have gladly thrown him in Azkaban, but, since he had never killed anyone and had been just a pawn, they'd just limited his rights. His mind had healed long ago and he wasn't suffering from the absent-mindedness anymore, but he still couldn't speak, so the investigators watched his memories, even the most personal, which weren't related to his case, so he felt naked in front of a crowd of people. They also took his written statements (actually, plenty of them). Some people considered him a victim, but most people saw his father in him and believed that young Malfoy could cause troubles. Lucius had been killed by the Aurors during the battle and now his repudiated son had to pay for his father's sins in some way. People hated Malfoys and they didn't really care that Draco had never even been a real Death Eater. He'd had his Dark Mark before, but that had been some kind of a recruit's mark. The real one had had to be gained after the initiation. Draco had failed most of the Dark Lord's missions, so he hadn't proved himself 'worthy', and then he'd become another victim of Voldemort and Lucius. The 'recruit's' mark could be given or removed by any Death Eater from the inner circle, so Severus had removed it, once his godson had settled down in his house. Draco couldn't go to Malfoy's Manor; the Ministry had warded it as a crime area for the time of investigation. But Draco had no desire to return there, anyway. He preferred to live with his godfather, and his house had become a safe sanctuary for him. He'd got accustomed to consider that place as such. And Severus wouldn't let him go anyway, because Draco could still be in danger. On top of everything, Draco had an unpleasant obligation; every month he had to visit the Ministry to be interrogated by two people, who were in charge with his case. It was just a way to control him and to make sure that he wouldn't make any surprises. In the end, they cast a tracking spell on him to track his every step. It was a hearing in private, so Severus wasn't present. When it was over and he found out about the Ministry's decisions for Draco's case, he was mad about all the ridiculousness and idiocy, but he had no power to repeal the sentence. He promised to escort Draco to the Ministry every month, to make sure that they respected the boy's rights, even if he didn't have many now. He was also concerned about the way his godson had gone through that humiliating process, since he wasn't standing on his feet, literally. He'd already gone through much misery and still couldn't speak, so they could, at least, be a little more tactful.

More troubles followed in person of Rita Skeeter and her article. The picture of Draco's sad face was on the front page of 'The Daily Prophet'. Oh, Skeeter had made a perfect job in picking Malfoys to pieces! Apparently, she had her source in the Ministry, which wasn't surprising, of course, and all Draco's confidential information was published with the ridiculous title: 'Mute Malfoy's Confessions'. Of course, she hadn't forgotten to mention the tortures he had endured in Lucius' hands and the hands of fucking 'YOU-KNOW-WHO'! And, of course, she made public the decisions of the Ministry regarding him. There was some hidden implication, which could be interpreted as a question if Draco could become a threat later, after he'd witnessed so many murders and tortures, and had been brutally tortured himself; just like a traumatized child, who had a chance to grow up in a serial murderer.

"Bitch! Bitch!" Draco yelled, tearing the paper to pieces, crumpling it and throwing it into the fireplace. Severus wasn't far when he heard his godson's screams. For months Draco had been mute. It was the first time, since his salvation, when Snape heard something from him. He wasn't pleased with the content, of course, but he also was concerned about the reason that made his godson scream like this, and Severus almost ran into his room right away to see what was going on. Draco sobbed into his palms, sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace.

"Draco, what is it?" Severus asked, sitting down next to a boy.

"...Newspaper..." was all that Draco answered.

Severus sent his owl to bring him the copy of 'The Daily Prophet'. When he'd read the whole front page, his face paled even more, though it seemed impossible, and he seethed with anger.

He blew up the Ministry, demanding an explanation. There was a scandal in the Ministry, and they pursued a narrow inquiry. They traced the leak to a timid (at least, timid in looks) man, who appeared to be Skeeter's source for years. He was fired for the disclosure of the confident information. Not that it helped Draco to stop living the life of a recluse and hide from everyone.

Ironically enough, the emotional shock of reading that ill-fated article had made him start speaking again.

And then Draco's life was rather peaceful. He studied a lot and just tried his best to get back on his feet. And finally, his return to school was determined. It had never been said aloud, but Draco knew that Severus decided to return at Hogwarts for _**him**_, and he was endlessly grateful for it. Actually, before that, Snape had had no intentions to teach again. He was free now and desired nothing, but a peaceful and cloistered life, at least, for some time. His mission had been done, and his spy career, with all its life-threatening danger, had been left behind. Nevertheless, he'd never intended to sit in the armchair, doing nothing; he had some unfinished inventions in potion-making, after all. He approved Draco's decision to return to school, however, he was convinced that it would have been wiser to wait another year, until everything would settle down a little around Malfoy's infamous name. But he never insisted, so the decision was made. Snape couldn't leave his godson alone with all the problems that would be inevitable. So for a one more year he had to become a professor again. Headmistress McGonagall was more than happy to find out about it, and welcomed him with open arms as a friend and as a Potions Professor.

And now they were standing at the footsteps of Hogwarts. Draco already knew that most of his so-called friends, ex-friends, anyway, mostly children of the Death Eaters, had refused to go back to school, at least, for this year. It was good in some respect, of course. Most assuredly, some of them would have treated him as a traitor. He didn't know for sure. He only knew that in past most of them had been appealed by the influence of his family, wealth and, of course, his father's... Lucius' place at the right hand of The Dark Lord. And now Draco had nothing to offer and even if he had, he wouldn't. Anyway, they wouldn't come to study this year. But didn't that mean that _**he**_ would become a scapegoat? There was no one in the entire school he could call a friend. But that was fine, he'd already got used to this thought. He tried to convince himself that the worst things had already happened to him and he had to move on.

The day was warm and beautiful, and the sun warmed his body gently, making him squint at its slightly annoying brightness. Draco had very conflicting emotions about Hogwarts. He remembered his first years in school with a smile. He'd been so naive and carefree. So much ambitions and hopes. Most things had been so easy for him. And there'd been no Lucius around him all the time to say that he was flippant and such demeanour wasn't worthy of Malfoys, or other things to rub his nose into. And then there had been the nightmarish sixth year that had made Hogwarts his personal hell, with no way out, and a trap for his agonizing soul. No, there was no way it would be that bad now.

"Draco?" Severus' voice behind him interrupted the stream of his thoughts.

"Yes," Draco nodded and entered the school. _'Come what may,'_ he thought, taking a deep breath.


	2. 1 Uninvited and not welcomed

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

Please read and comment.

_**1. Uninvited and not welcomed**_

Harry was glad to go back to school with his two closest friends. It was their last year and he already felt sad about it. He knew that his life would never be the same again after school. Once again he had to admit that the place was magnificent. He shared his thoughts with friends.

"Maybe we should do _**so**_ badly on the lessons that they wouldn't have a choice, but to leave us here for another year?" Ron joked.

"Oh, I'm sure, it wouldn't be difficult for you to do, Ron," Hermione said, making him roll up his eyes.

The only thing that darkened Harry's joy was his fame. He hated all those rapturous gazes, he hated to be harassed, hated the reporters, hated all those people, who took his pictures wherever he went, without even asking his permission. He hated the fact that a lot of baby boys, that had been born recently, were named 'Harry'. 'Harrietta' was some kind of a new name for the girls, but it was uncommon, thankfully. He hated the sacs of love letters he received every day. He'd stopped reading them long time ago. _'I did what I could. Now why can't I just enjoy my life with the people who care about me not because I'm a Saviour and a Golden Boy? And why am I the one who should suffer? I wasn't the only one who fought the war,'_ he thought angrily. He also never forgot that some people, who adored him now, had flanged mud at him before, when he'd been just 'The Chosen One' and had had to fight the war. And now they tried to impose their 'friendship' on him and gave him their fake smiles. Dissemblers... And at school some kids, especially the younger ones, looked at him with such awe and adoration as if he was god, no less. He was sick of that fanaticism. _'No. I'm here to enjoy my last year and I won't let anyone screw it up. They just have to get used to see me every day and everything will be okay.'_

Harry was surprised to see Malfoy in the Great Hall. He had never thought he would see him in Hogwarts again. Harry couldn't help but feel sympathy, knowing what terrors he'd had to endure when he'd fallen into disgrace of Voldemort and his own father. And, even worse, his mother had been murdered. Rita Skeeter's article was full of details about it. She had gained an access to the confident information about what had been happening during Malfoy's interrogations. She'd also mentioned that he'd been mute because of the emotional trauma, and wouldn't talk even under the effect of Veritaserum, so the interrogators had been watching his memories (not that they wouldn't have watched them, even if he could speak). Harry wondered if Malfoy was still mute. He was sitting at the table of the Slytherin, but aside of the others with his eyes looking down; listless and apathetic.

Harry found out that the blond Slytherin _could_ actually speak when he answered during the lessons. He never heard him speaking of anything that didn't concern studying. But, of course, he didn't see him often enough to know if he really was as taciturn as he seemed to be.

* * *

><p>First weeks were tolerable enough. Draco couldn't avoid the scowling glances and whispers behind his back. Some glances were spiteful and some even expressed fear. Not that he cared much, but it was still uncomfortable sometimes. But who was he now to complain? Everyone tried to avoid him, and he thought that it was even better this way. He still was a Slytherin, of course, but he didn't live in the Slytherin's dorms. He had his own room not far from Snape's chambers in the dungeons. Severus insisted that that was for Draco's own good and the blond never argued, since he often wanted to be left alone, so the place was exactly what he wanted.<p>

Time went by and Draco's life became more complicated when some students realized that he was an easy aim for jokes and mockery. He was alone and no one would stand up for him, except Snape, of course, but the Potions Master couldn't be around all the time. And Draco never complained to him about the stupid antics of the other students. Most of them were the Gryffindors; and again, it wasn't surprising. There were verbal insults, taunts and intimidation.

"You know, the Death Eaters killed my aunt and cousins. I wonder if you were there!"

"Where are your friends now, ferret? Are they smart enough not to turn up here, huh?"

"What are you up to? Preparing another murder, since you've failed with Dumbledore?"

"You're a fucking wimp, Malfoy!"

"Why were you allowed to come back at Hogwarts in the first place? Where's the justice? You must rot in Azkaban."

"Where's your daddy? Oh, sorry, I forgot, he's dead and he repudiated you."

"Is it true that your daddy killed your mum right before your eyes? Is it something common for the Purebloods? Go ahead, enlighten me, - I'm a mudblood."

"You got what you deserved!"

"It was very stupid of you to come back here. I promise you'll be out of Hogwarts long before the school year ends."

"Have you swallowed your tongue or are you mute again?"

And many, many other hurtful comments or just the unpleasant jokes. He tried not to react and most times just walked away when he wasn't surrounded.

* * *

><p>Every day after lessons he retreated into his room just to be alone. It was a very cosy and comfortable place with the large stained-glass magical window. It was a fake window though. It could be opened and there was a wonderful garden with flowers in flower-beds, bushes (some of them were blossoming), trees and a beautiful fountain. The fountain was a statue of a woman and a child. The woman was dressed in long robes, and a little chubby boy was sitting near her leg, holding the hem of her robes in his small hand. She held a jug on her shoulder, inclining it forward with her hand, and a thick stream of water fell down from it. The statue was made of grey stone. There was a stone bench not far from the fountain with the round flower-beds on each side of it. Draco had been impressed when he'd first seen this garden and he'd wanted to know how big the illusion was. Of course, it couldn't be endless, even though he could see the forest not far away. He'd found the invisible barrier right where the garden ended and the garden wasn't really big. And still, it was an outstanding work of art and magic: the birds were singing on the trees, he could touch the cool water in the fountain, sit on the bench, reading a book, smell the scent of the flowers and even feel the fresh air, caressing his skin. The illusion was perfect, but not too perfect to seem unnatural. When he tried to bring a flower into his room, it disappeared, just as he'd expected, and reappeared in the flower-bed where he had picked it. The place wasn't too bright or colourful. In fact, it looked rather melancholic sometimes. But it looked good and calming without the screaming, ridiculous colours, so nothing irritated Draco's eyes.<p>

Sometimes the days of the illusion were sunny, so the sun shined upon the stained-glass window, made of blue (dark-blue and light-blue) and yellow pieces, and the thick rays of light of the said colours penetrated the room and created a warm and luxury atmosphere inside of it. There was always a pleasantly warm summer. Some days were even rainy. The time of year never changed, but the time of days and nights matched the time in reality. Whoever created this wonderful illusion, Draco was grateful to that person. It was his private retreat and it made him feel safe. But he didn't spend much time there. He was afraid that it could make him forget where he really was. So he decided to spend more time in reality even if it wasn't kind to him.

* * *

><p>Some boys never missed a chance to shove Draco with their shoulders and elbows or just push him when they walked passing him in the corridors. When Severus once found his godson surrounded by a group of the Gryffindors and a couple of Ravenclaws, throwing insults and stupid jokes at him and pushing him into the corner, he gave them all two weeks of detentions and took sixty points from both houses. That restrained their ardour for some time, and Draco was left alone. Unfortunately, it didn't last. He had some incidents after that, but he never told Snape about them. It was his own problem and he didn't want to hide behind his godfather. Just as Draco had anticipated, he'd become a scapegoat.<p>

Once, after the Divination lesson he was forcefully pushed in the back and fell down the stairs. Thankfully, he got away with the bruises and skinned palms and knees. The spiral staircase was steep enough to fall head over heels and break a good amount of bones. He didn't know, who had pushed him, but he heard someone said with the irritation in his voice: "Watch your step, Malfoy". This incident made him even more paranoid. He watched his back constantly and couldn't stand when someone was standing behind him.

* * *

><p>Ron was in an awful mood. It wasn't enough that he'd had another bitter quarrel with Hermione for some stupid and insignificant reason, but he was also seized with a feeling of inferiority. He asked himself, what his place in the Golden Trio was now after the end of war. Harry was a hero and a Saviour, Hermione was utterly clever and talented witch. And what about Ron? He felt as if he was a weak link, sometimes he felt useless and that made him angry. When he had once asked Hermione why she liked him and what was his place with her and Harry, in her opinion, she, of course, had told him that they all were best friends, that he had done a lot during the war with Voldemort, and that his most admirable trace was that he was funny and could cheer up people in the most desperate situations. <em>'Am I a clown or something? I'm growing up, I've become a man, and she, like many other people, still treats me like a first-year school-boy. It's just unfair,'<em> he sighed to himself. Something had changed in him. He knew that it was the consequence of war, and he'd become more serious and mature since the last battle. He knew he was just distressed and everything would go back to normal. But right now he felt bad and wanted to be alone, away from his friends.

He entered some random pub with the banal name on the signboard: 'The Golden Cup'. The pub was almost empty, and so the blond head immediately drew his attention. The owner of this so familiar blond head was sitting at the counter. His face and shoulders looked dropped as if these shoulders carried the weight of the world on them. Malfoy. For a few seconds Ron shifted from one foot to the other, and yet, he approached the counter.

"Firewhisky," he ordered without thinking twice, and the next moment he noticed that Malfoy was taking the same strong drink. Few seconds later the owner of the pub, - the middle-aged man with the dark-brown hair, put the glass of firewhisky in front of Ron. The red-haired Gryffindor sat down at the counter almost next to Malfoy. Only one empty chair separated them. It seemed that the Slytherin paid absolutely no attention to him, absorbed in his drink and in his own thoughts that were obviously joyless. It wasn't hard to guess that he was brought here by the same reason: a wish to forget his troubles. Out of the corner of his eye Ron saw that Malfoy's eyes looked empty and not entirely sober already. Just for one moment Ron thought that there was a kindred soul next to him (he mentally laughed at himself for this thought). Malfoy was an outcast. Even if he hadn't been thrown in Azkaban, even if he was a victim of the war himself, people hated him. Not that Ron pitied him very much, but still he felt some sympathy; many things felt different after all he'd been through.

He emptied his glass and asked for more. After three more glasses he felt tipsy and decided that it was time to stop or he would have to return at school on his four, and it was stupid to hope that no one would notice. Malfoy was in the same condition already, he was just drinking slower, prolonging the doubtful pleasure.

For some reason Draco didn't care that the red-haired Gryffindor was sitting next to him. Since Weasley had sat down at the counter, he secretly expected to hear the insults and decided that he wouldn't react anyway. Not outwardly, at least. He had already got his portion of mockery and insults earlier this day from the other Gryffindorks. _'Who cares? There's no way he'll make me feel worse than I already do. And if he's going to inform the teachers of my drunken state, I won't keep silence about his. Obviously, he's not here for pumpkin juice,'_ the Slytherin thought. But there were no insults, so Draco wasn't paying much attention to his neighbourhood. He noticed, however, when Weasley stood up, slightly drunk.

"Thanks," Weasley said calmly. It was unexpected. At first Draco thought that those words were addressed to the owner of the place, but the man was away and the redhead was looking directly at Draco.

"For what?" the blond asked gloomy without looking back. Draco still half-expected some mockery. Weasley had a perfect chance to pay him back for every squabble they had had in their earlier years.

"For your company," the Gryffindor replied.

"Oh? So that's what they call it? I'm not drunk enough not to remember that we didn't say a word to each other," Draco murmured quietly, a little annoyed.

"It doesn't matter," Ron shrugged and left the place with the unsteady walk. Draco just shook his head.

* * *

><p>The next morning Draco woke up with a terrible hangover. He didn't remember well the way he'd sneaked into his room without drawing attention to his state. But he remembered that, before leaving the pub, he hadn't forgotten to drink the Polyjuice to take some very commonplace appearance. No, he hadn't forgotten to do it even being drunk. Last summer he'd been taught a cruel lesson when he'd finally decided to go to Wizarding London, he'd ended up on some back street beaten up by a small group of people who'd recognized him. They hadn't even used their magic against him, preferring to deal with him with their fists and words full of hatred. He hadn't been damaged terribly, but he'd learned his lesson well, and now he had a vial of Polyjuice with him almost every time he left Hogwarts.<p>

He got up. His head hurt terribly and it made him sit back on his bed with the pained moan. In addition, his unhealthy heart made itself felt with ache again, so he promised himself not to try his weak health anymore without strong reasons. And firewhisky wouldn't make it better by any stretch of imagination. He looked through some of his books and found the recipe of the simple hangover potion. He brewed it right in his bathroom. And then, after drinking it, he took a bath and came back to bed with a book. _'Thank goodness, it's Saturday,'_ he thought, feeling relieved.

* * *

><p>It was Monday. Draco hated to roam about the school after the end of the lessons, for a certain reason, but he needed to go to the library. He spent there about half an hour, studying a book with the ancient magical symbols, which had been used for some rituals many generations ago. He was making notes on a parchment, absorbed in an interesting subject when two familiar Gryffindors showed up. Both of them were among those pricks that made his life miserable. They were from sixth year, like most of his stalkers, but they were bigger than Draco. The way they were gazing at him didn't promise him any good. No, they hadn't come here for him on purpose and they wouldn't get at him in the library, but when he'd leave they'd follow him for sure. He tried not to look at them. A paper bird landed on his table and unfolded itself. <em>'You're dead, Malfoy'<em> was written with a chicken handwriting, which was hard to read. _'It's getting old,'_ he smirked to himself. He had already done what he'd come here for, but he simply couldn't leave now. _'All right... What's wrong with getting some more bruises?'_ he told himself. But he couldn't make himself get up. It was stupid to hope that they would leave before him and just let him be. And then the Slytherin noticed Ronald Weasley, playing the wizard's chess with himself, aside from the others. _'Couldn't find a better place, could you?'_ Draco thought. He noticed that the redhead Gryffindor was in a foul mood again just like he'd been in a pub three days ago. Draco could guess that it was all about know-it-all Granger, who sometimes was going a little too far in her intentions to show her intelligence. Perhaps, it made Weasley suffer from the inferiority complex.

And it wasn't far from the truth. Ron had come to the library to do his homework on his own without the constant and sometimes annoying tips from the girl he really cared for, so they wouldn't argue anymore. After all, he wasn't a fool and he was perfectly capable of doing his tasks without any assistance. He just needed more time for it. When he'd finished his homework, he wasn't in hurry to go back in the Gryffindor tower, so he'd decided to play chess for some time on his own.

Draco got up and gathered his belongings. He knew that his tormentors were watching him and waiting for him to leave. But, instead, he approached Weasley hesitantly.

"Do you need an opponent?" he asked quietly. Draco was fond of chess and it took him only a few seconds to realize that Weasley was a good player, good enough for a worthy and interesting game. Ron looked at him with suspicion and that look made Draco regret that he'd approached him at all. _'Of course, you don't,'_ Draco thought. _'Why would you ruin your reputation by being seen with an outcast? And, most assuredly, our rivalry in the past is not forgotten.'_ He already intended to turn away and leave to face his waiting offenders. But Ron answered surprisingly calmly:

"Well... Sure. Why not?"

They were playing almost until the very curfew. It was enough time for them to play two exciting games. One of them was won by Ron and the other one by Draco. They both admitted to themselves that the other one was a worthy opponent, but nothing was said aloud. Once they finished, they just nodded to each other and headed to their rooms, separating their ways. Two pricks were long gone while their scapegoat had been busy, playing chess with the famous Saviour's friend from their own house. _'Well, thank you, Weasel, for saving my day,'_ Draco smiled to himself, _'I haven't really used you, have I?'_

* * *

><p>The very next day they found him after lessons when he was heading to the dungeons alone. Most students and teachers were still in the Great Hall, eating their supper. Suddenly Draco was dragged into the empty classroom by his collar. It happened before he knew it. When his shocked mind fully realized the gravity of the situation, it was too late and he was helpless. They locked the door and he swallowed nervously. Somehow he knew that this time he wouldn't get away with just insults. They took his wand away just in case. There were five of them and there was no way to escape.<p>

"Well, Malfoy, have you changed your mind? Do you still want to stay at school?" one of them mumbled. Draco didn't answer. He hardly ever answered them.

"They say, blondies are stupid, so they never get messages," the other one mocked. "Let me explain more eloquently."

The Slytherin was hit hard in the face. He gasped and pressed a palm to his sore cheek. He was trembling and shocked. They had never hit him in the face before. Two of the Gryffindors exchanged worried glances, a little surprised by their friend's actions, but they weren't going to stop him anyway. The next punch was in Draco's stomach. He fell on his knees, trying to find his breath. The only girl among them tried to slap him across the face, but he managed to hide his head in his arms. It was that same girl, whose aunt and cousins had died in the hands of the Death Eaters. And Draco was the one to pay for it. He was writhing and shaking when they were hitting him again and again.

"Why don't we talk about the purity of my blood? You're fucking nazi scum!" one of the Gryffindors growled hatefully, hitting Draco's face so hard that the blond wasn't sure at first if his jaw had withstood. He tried not to scream, not to entertain them even more, but he yelled at the top of his lungs when the girl hit his groin with her shoe. His body convulsed in sharp pain.

"All right, that's enough... Enough for today," one of the boys said, getting his breath. His words promised more pain later.

"Now crawl into your goddamn dungeons and lick your wounds," the other one said coldly. He threw Draco's wand at him and they left him curled up on the floor.

He lost track of time, lying there in some kind of a prostration. But finally he managed to pull himself together, got up, wincing in pain, and sneaked into his room, hoping that no one had noticed that he was pressing a hand to his sore crotch under his cloak. _'I'm not going to cry. Worse things used to happen to me. I won't cry...'_ he kept repeating to himself.

His lip was split and bled slightly. He knew he was going to have bruises on his face and body the next day. Draco healed himself as best as he could. He cast a 'Glacius' spell on the water in the cup to freeze it and started his healing with putting the ice where it was necessary. He had some ingredients in his room and, as usually, he brewed potion in his bathroom to make poultices. His hands were shaking, but he hardly paid attention to it. Dispirited, he was looking at himself in the mirror. _'Tomorrow I'm going to need a glamour charm,'_ he mused almost absently. It had started with just some stupid jokes and threats, and finally they'd started to beat him up. That was just logical, though he had hoped it wouldn't come down to this._ 'What have I become?..'_

And again he retreated into the illusion behind the fake window. Recently a new detail had appeared in the garden - a white cat. She always met him with purrs and rubbed herself against his legs, demanding attention. He called her Albine and she always answered to this name. She liked to stretch out under the sun, she cleaned herself, slept, played with something, drank water from the fountain or was just sitting or lying on the bench next to Draco. In other words, she acted like a real cat. This time wasn't an exception; she met him with meows and purrs and escorted him to the bench. He scratched her behind her ears absently and started to read a book to unbend his mind. His body was still trembling.

Eventually, he started to feel drowsy. He reached his bed and undressed with some efforts.

_...The taste of blood in his mouth. He's crying and yelling in pain and horror, even if he can hardly breathe. Pain is cursing throughout him mercilessly. His body is almost battered inside as he has endured a lot already. Fragility of soul and mind... Pain is everywhere, driving him insane, ruining him. Tears. Agony... Two ruthless faces in front of him - Lucius' and his Lord's. They won't show any mercy; oh, no, they won't. They enjoy his suffering. Mother's dead body is somewhere behind them on the cold floor. He can't see her, but he knows she's right there. He can't scream anymore. Suffocation... His lungs and throat are burning. He's literally choking with fire, burning inside... _

His own scream woke him up. The potion... Draco had forgotten to take it before falling asleep. He gasped, feeling the warm wetness under his bottom. He closed his eyes in shame. He'd wetted his bed... He felt humiliated and betrayed by his own body. It wasn't the first time though. It had already happened to him several times right after his salvation from the Dark Lord and Lucius, and back then he'd felt distressed and ashamed of himself even when he'd been half-conscious. It had also happened sometimes during the agonizing hours of tortures. And now all those memories had rushed into his mind, and they were enough to make him want to lay his hands on himself. He was beside himself with shame, humiliation and pain. Memories were too much. He'd tried to suppress them for a long time, just driving them into the dark corners of his mind where they seemed harmless. And his dreams had been suppressed by the strong potions, that were stronger than Dreamless Sleep potion; but this time he had forgotten to take it before his sleep. Now that the memories had come flooding back on him, it was devastating.

"I won't cry... Voldemort and Lucius are dead and I'm not. It's over. I won't cry. I won't cry..." Draco chanted again and again. When his breathing had finally calmed down a little, he cleaned himself and his bed. Frustrated, he grabbed a small vial of his Deep Sleep potion and drained it in one gulp. He had to sleep, he had to forget...

The next morning Draco's body was aching terribly, so he took his time to get up and missed breakfast. The only 'breakfast' he had, was a potion to ease the pain and the other potions he had to take every day due to his weak health. His bruises didn't look that awful, because he'd taken care about them last night, but he still had to cast a glamour charm on them and on the deep split on his lip.

* * *

><p>Another week passed. They didn't touch him. Just the usual insults. His bruises and lip healed. He started to hope that they wouldn't dare to beat him up again, but decided that, if that would happen, he'd strangle his pride and tell Severus everything. He hated to complain to him, but he thought that he would, if they left him no choice. On the other hand, perhaps, they weren't touching him so far, because he tried to stay close to the other students all the time. Of course, no one would try to protect him, he couldn't hope that anyone would, but his stalkers still didn't want to attract the undesirable attention to their deeds, he knew it for sure.<p>

He was studying a lot and he was doing very well on the lessons. Perhaps, that was the reason for the most Slytherins to tolerate him (the second reason after Severus, of course), - he gained a lot of points for his house. He even thought that it wasn't really that bad to be alone, - he had plenty of time to study on his own without anyone to distract him. Most teachers were impressed. What of his stalkers... Their plan to drive him out of Hogwarts wasn't working. And one of them saw him playing the wizard's chess with Ronald Weasley again. That time Ron had been the one who'd offered Draco a game, and the Slytherin had accepted his challenge with joy, though they both had been taciturn again, focusing on the game and their own thoughts. His offenders, meanwhile, thought that it was a barefaced impudence of the Slytherin to act like that. Well, they probably weren't convincing enough?


	3. 2 Bleeding Prince

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

Please, read and comment

_**2. Bleeding Prince**_

He easily got into their ambush after leaving the library. There was an hour left until the curfew and most students were already in their dorms. And again there was no one else in the corridor. They always picked the right moments and the right places to terrorize him. Draco cursed himself for staying in the library for so long. They surrounded him. There were about ten of them this time! No escape...

"Hello, ferret! It's been a while. Did you miss us?" one of the boys smirked. Draco was pushed against the wall roughly. His books fell on the floor. His heart clenched.

"I think we were too kind to you, you impudent prat." Hit in the face. Draco's lip was split again and the blood was leaking down his chin. He moaned in pain quietly, covering the face with his hands. Gods, how could he be so imprudent to stay alone so late?.. Another hit and this time in his nose. More blood. In panic he made a desperate attempt to tear himself away and run like hell, but was pushed against the wall again and hit with the Stinging Hex in his arm. The pain burned his body and mind. At the same time he was hit with a curse that made him feel worms crawling under his skin. It was more scary and disgusting than painful. He knew some things about this curse. Cast by a skilful wizard or witch, it could drive people insane. It was an illusion, but the victim, eventually, started to see the moving bulges under their skin, started to see and feel the disgusting worms gnawing through the skin and getting outside. Victims often ended up scratching violently, tearing their skin and losing their mind if torture continued for enough time, even if they knew that it was an illusion.

Draco gasped and bit his injured lip not to scream. He was shaking all over.

"Hey, stop it right now!" someone exclaimed and the caster ended the torture right away. Using spells like this was risky. They didn't want to be caught, using magic against the other student. But they weren't afraid to use their fists. They had done it before, but he hadn't told anyone, and had used charms to hide the evidences of beating.

More blows were raining down on him. He was slipping down the wall, covering his head and face. There were muffled screams he couldn't hold back. They put him on his feet again. He cursed himself for not telling his godfather about all the things he had to endure. The man would have made it stop for sure. And now Draco was alone again, helpless and humiliated. More blows followed. Not all of them meant to hurt him - some were just mockery. Finally he cried, and the bitter tears were running down his face. His nerves betrayed him.

"Now look at this molly-coddle!" someone snickered.

"Why do you make us hurt you? You know you're the one to stop it. Just get your arse out of the school."

Someone pulled his hair and someone hit his arm that was hurting terribly after the Stinging Hex. He cried out again.

"I want to see his Dark Mark," one of two girls demanded. Draco's sleeves were rolled up roughly, but there was no Mark, of course.

"What if he has it anywhere else? He's just so special, isn't he? Let's have a look," someone else mocked.

Draco's robes were taken off him quickly and roughly. He realized that they were really going to undress him and something inside of him was burning in shame. Humiliation was overwhelming. It was going too far. He was already thinking about leaving Hogwarts, as they demanded, if they would undress him and leave him naked and beaten up in the corridor. But he just couldn't let it happen and he was determined to do anything he could to avoid this ponderous shame.

"No!" he cried out and tried to push someone away. He was punished with a heavy slap on the head right above the ear. His sight darkened and his ears were stuffed up for more than a minute. He was standing there in shock and even stopped crying. His head was throbbing, but everything was about to lose all the meaning, even his shame and pain. Perhaps, it was a shock or he was close to resigning himself. He had no willpower to fight it, and there was no point anyway, since he was alone in this. There was nothing else left for him to do but to give in, just to make it end sooner. No more useless attempts. _'Do it and leave me alone...'_

* * *

><p>Harry was literally buried under his parchments and books. He had to finish an important essay for the next day and he hadn't even started it yet. And at the very last moment he discovered that he didn't have enough books at his disposal to make a worthy work. It was just an hour until the curfew, so he still had time to take some books from the library. Harry decided not to waste any more time and went there with a rapid gait. On the way he noticed a group of people in the corridor. Something was happening. They were beating someone up! He saw a severe slap to the head of that person. He came closer and was completely stunned as he saw a crowd of people from his own house, surrounding Draco Malfoy, whose face was wet with tears and his nose and lips were bleeding. Three boys from the sixth year appeared to be most violent of all of them. Harry recognized them: Julian Dahl, Simon Whitesmith and Carnelian Hays. All the others were mostly watching and instigating them, at least, at this moment. There was even a prefect among them!<p>

"Don't be shy, Malfoy. We just want to look at your Mark," Dahl grabbed and yanked Malfoy's shirt collar. Some buttons were already missing.

"He's just a pussy," someone giggled.

"Undress this scum already."

Rage was rising inside of Harry as he was seeing this scene. Malfoy didn't even try to fight back. He was just standing there with his back pressed against the wall. His face was turned aside and his eyes were closed. There was no any obvious fear on his face, just some sorrowful anticipation. And helplessness. Harry knew the reason of this helplessness. The Ministry kept its watchful eye on him (as if he hadn't had enough so it was necessary to make his life even more hellish, as if he had to pay for his father's sins, as if it wasn't enough that he himself had been a victim of a mad tyrant), and if Draco would fight back (fight the **_Gryffindors_**!) even in self-defence, all of it could be turned against him. They could easily blame him in provoking the Gryffindors or even worse, it could be turned as if he was the one who'd started the fight. His rights were limited and any conflicts, most definitely, wouldn't be solved in his favour. He didn't yield to provocations and didn't fight back even verbally. And even if he would, he was alone against the nine people. Harry was bitterly disappointed in the members of his own house. He remembered his lessons of Occlumency with Snape when by some unlucky accident he'd managed to see the way his own father and his friends had treated young Snape. It was then when he'd been disappointed in his own father for the first time (not really disappointed, but he, at the very least, had realized that the man hadn't been as perfect as people tried to convince Harry, he'd been), but mostly he'd been disappointed in the Gryffindors in tote. It was then when he had wondered why the stereotyped view attached the label of only bravery, chivalry, selflessness and justice to the house of Gryffindor. Stereotypes. The reality just couldn't be that perfect, and those who, at least, had to try to justify their title could behave mean and cowardly, for example, asserting themselves by tormenting someone, who couldn't even spit in their faces in return. Exactly this he was witnessing now. It almost pained him to see Malfoy like this. He'd used to know self-satisfied Malfoy, caustic, proud, arrogant, stubborn, cunning. And now he could only see a broken youth, the dethroned Slytherin Prince.

Harry quickly approached the crowd, pushing everyone aside to reach Dahl. He grabbed the back of his shirt collar and yanked him back roughly. The boy landed on his arse with the surprised yelp and stared at Harry in disbelief. Then Harry grabbed Whitesmith's chin and pushed him away from Malfoy. Whitesmith nearly fell, but managed to keep the balance and touched his jaw in pain. Everyone stepped back seeing the cold anger on Harry's face.

"That's right. Get the fuck out. I'll make sure the headmistress is aware of what just happened here," he said coldly.

"But it's Malfoy, don't you see?" the youngest girl objected. She was only fourteen years old, perhaps.

"All I see is a bunch of pathetic pricks and cowards. What the fuck is wrong with you? This won't happen again; I'll take care about it. Now get out," he almost growled, grabbing the girl's hair and then pushing her away.

"Oww!" she cried, but Harry knew he hadn't been too harsh to really hurt her, even if he wanted to. Everyone left. Some were still surprised, but most of them felt uneasy that they had got into trouble, caught in the act like this, and now the headmistress would find out about it, and, perhaps, she would find out that it wasn't the first time they'd tormented Malfoy. Actually, it wasn't even the tenth time, though hardly ever they had really beaten him up, making him bleed like this. It had gone a little too far this time.

There were just Harry and Draco left in the corridor. The blond was quite surprised by Harry's outburst, but he was too tired and too hurt to show it on his injured face.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked almost softly.

"Why do you bother?" Draco spat, trying his best to subdue his still convulsive breathing. "I don't need your help and your pity! What do you want?"

"It's banal: I couldn't watch them taking advantage over the one who couldn't stand up for himself. That was... mean."

"Disappointed, Potter? Welcome to the real world," Draco snorted bitterly. He was really hurt and annoyed.

"It wasn't the first time, was it? How many times did it happen before?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm not counting," the blond snapped, picking his books off the floor. Harry picked two of those books and handed him. Some 'thank you' appeared in Draco's eyes, however, he wasn't looking at Harry at all. He just couldn't look at him after the Gryffindor had witnessed his humiliation.

"You're bleeding," Harry said and again softly. He suppressed a wish to reach out and wipe the blood from his chin. The blood was leaking again from the split lip, probably disturbed because of talking. "You have to go to the infirmary."

"No. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Draco answered firmly, shielding himself with coldness and indifference. Anyway, Harry cast healing spells on his nose and lip. Draco flinched and jerked back in surprise and anxiety, seeing the wand pointed at him. His taut nerves betrayed him again, but he relaxed a little, realizing what Potter was really doing. His bleeding stopped and the deep splits skinned over just a little bit. He touched his lip with his tongue. It still hurt, but not as bad as before. The blond cast a cleaning spell on himself to remove the blood from his shirt and face. He also cast a repairing spell on his shirt. It didn't look good enough anyway, so he was determined to get rid of it later.

"Let me, at least, see you to your dorms," Harry offered. He still wasn't sure if Malfoy wasn't injured more than he let on. He'd seen that hit in the head. It could be serious.

"I wonder if it has something to do with your odd inclination to waste your time on the pathetic ones and the wretched ones. Not sure if I should be honoured though," the Slytherin mumbled almost spitefully. "Don't trouble yourself."

"Let me see you to your dorms or I'll drag you to the infirmary by force," Harry warned firmly. Draco was too tired to argue.

"As you wish. But I don't live with the other Slytherins."

"You have a room of your own then?"

"Yes, in the dungeons," Slytherin sighed, tidying himself up and straightening his tie. Harry noticed that the blonde's hands were shaking.

"I envy. I'd love to have a room too," the dark-haired youth smiled slightly, trying to relieve the tension.

"Then why don't you ask McGonagall? I'm sure she would eagerly make concessions to her Golden Boy," Draco murmured tiredly as they were already heading to the dungeons. The blond walked at a slow pace and Harry didn't want to hurry him up. Draco's heart hurt, but he tried to make no sign of it. He needed his potions. His left arm was in pain because of the Stinging Curse. It had probably affected the nerve, so his arm hurt all the way down, but his fingers felt numb. Everything hurt, in fact.

"Oh, you won't believe it, but I don't want to be treated in some special way. I don't want any indulgences. I'm tired of it all," the Gryffindor answered.

"Well, they made me... an indulgence then, so I swell with pride."

"I believe it was made for your protection," the Gryffindor stated the obvious fact, ignoring the Slytherin's bitter sarcasm. Draco just shrugged.

They were silent for the rest of their way. Harry just walked alongside the Slytherin, who led the way. They reached Draco's room, protected by a portrait of a dark wizard from the Middle Ages. The man was wearing the rich black robes with the golden embroidery, and was reading a book with some kind of a pentagram on its cover. He had the dark-brown hair and a small beard. He looked at the boys with a scowl, tearing himself away from the book, though he didn't look frightening.

"Well... This is where I live. You may tell your friends about it, to make every Gryffindor know," Draco said sarcastically.

"Why are you saying this? I didn't have such intentions when I suggested my company. Look... If some idiots from my house make your life complicated, don't recon me among them."

"A great hero and a Saviour shows me such kindness? How so?" the blond sighed.

"Because everything's different now. We were children. For my part, I outgrew our conflicts and bickering that we had in the past," Harry explained simply.

"Oh, no. It's all because I seem so pathetic now; oh, poor me... You don't consider me a threat, and you also pity me. How generous of you."

"No. It's not because of you. It's because of me. And, what of those idiots, I'll make sure they won't bother you again."

"Umm? Sounds threatening. And what are you planning to do about them? Kill them? I'm flattered," Slytherin almost laughed, but the pain in his chest prevented him from doing it. He just couldn't believe that Potter would do anything to make the pricks stop. And he couldn't believe that Potter would actually do anything like that for **_him_**. Why would he? And if he would, would that work? No, it was stupid to hope that he would be finally left alone...

"McGonagall has to be informed about it anyway."

"No. You better let it be then. I don't want her to make the official announcement about it. It's already humiliating enough and I don't want the rest of the school to be informed," the blond frowned and tensed a little.

"This won't happen. I promise," Harry assured. He noticed that the pained expression on the Slytherin's face intensified for a second.

"I see you have nothing better to do, Potter."

"You may say so," the brunet shrugged, looking in the grey eyes with slightly swollen and reddened eyelids due to the earlier weeping.

"I think you should leave," Draco said coldly, feeling uncomfortable about the way Potter was looking at him.

"Yeah, right... Take care," Harry nodded and left.

Draco entered his room. _'Thank you,'_ he thought, realizing that he hadn't thanked Potter for anything. And still he was quite sceptical about his promise to make idiots stop getting on him. But why would Potter even get himself involved in this? And what about the solidarity with the people of his own house? Why would he do anything against them? Did he need something from Draco? No, it didn't look like Potter... He just pitied him or he was just ashamed of his housemates. Anyway, Draco couldn't help, but feel grateful; but angry... and humiliated. And he was still hurt. His heart was calming down, but the pain was still there. He was dizzy; his head pulsed with pain, as well as his ribs, stomach, shoulders and arm.

He took the potion to ease the pain in his heart and the other one to ease the pain in general, and prepared himself a bath with the calming scent of the bath oil. He needed to calm down. Eventually, he started to relax in warm water. He finally felt safe.

Could his life have changed that much that Potter was the one who had protected him? _'Will I ever recover? Will the pain ever stop?'_ he thought, rubbing his bruised and still aching body carefully with the washcloth. Pain... He would never really get used to it, even after he had endured so much of it already. And then he really started to think that returning to Hogwarts wasn't a good idea, after all; that he had had to listen to Severus and wait for the next year. He just wanted to study, wanted to end the school and think about his future. But what future? Did he have any in the first place?

After putting the soothing poultices on his bruises and abrasions, he used the remains of the salve he'd made the last time he'd been beaten up. He fell asleep after his Deep Sleep potion, suspecting that he had exceeded his normal dose.

* * *

><p>In the morning Draco felt jaded. It took him some time to get up and reach the mirror. He examined a huge purple bruise on his stomach and the smaller ones across his ribs and on the shoulders. They had already started to heal because of his treatment. But his arm was still in pain, though the sensitivity had almost returned to the fingers. He clenched and unclenched the fist several times to exercise them. His hands were still trembling. There was a painful hardening where the Stinging Hex had hit him, right above the inner side of his elbow, and he could hardly bend his arm. The nerve was doubtlessly affected. It got better after another warm poultice. Draco's face, however, looked a little better than it had looked last night with the exception of the bruised temple, slightly swollen eye and a bruise at the corner of his mouth. But he didn't feel well anyway even after the pain relieving potion. He felt like spending the day in bed.<p>

Draco entered his godfather's chambers, still dressed in his pyjamas and the silk pale-blue dressing gown, hoping that the man was still there.

"Morning, Severus," he greeted him.

"Good morning," the man replied.

"I... really need a release from my lessons today."

"Why? You don't feel well, do you?" Severus asked a little concerned. Draco looked paler than he usually did, and exhausted too. He had disguised his bruises, but there was nothing he could do about his visible weariness.

"Yes... I'm not going to fritter away, I promise. I'll just study in my room, if I may."

"Fine. Why don't you go to the infirmary for the examination?"

"There's no need to. I'll take care of myself. Just need a little rest. I'll be fine, I assure you."

"Then return to your room and have some rest. You look terrible."

"Thank you, Severus," Draco sighed and left.

He fell asleep very soon again due to his exhaustion, feeling relieved that he, at least, had this day to himself. His bed seemed to be the most comfortable place to spend it.

* * *

><p>Harry had half-expected that the blond would miss this school day after the events of the last night. He hadn't even showed up in the Great Hall for breakfast and then for lunch and dinner too. The Gryffindor was even a little concerned about it. In any case, he had some news for Malfoy, and since he had no opportunity to talk to him in person and he would hardly be welcomed in the blonde's private room, Harry took a parchment and a quill, and started to write when his friends weren't around. He found his white owl in the owlery and gave her the letter. She was an exact copy of Hedwig. It was Ron's gift. Ron knew that Harry missed Hedwig terribly, so he'd decided to cheer up his friend, hoping that he wouldn't make it worse instead. He knew that no other owl would replace Hedwig, but Harry had been very grateful for Ron's attention. Harry had called his new owl Snowflake, even if it wasn't very original. Actually, it was Ron who had offered several names and Harry had just chosen one of them.<p>

Snowflake took his letter and flew away in the direction of the dungeons.

* * *

><p>Draco woke up after a long and good sleep. He found his dinner (or more likely it was both dinner and lunch) left on his desk. Some elf of the castle had left it for him. It was still hot and Draco was very hungry. He almost finished enjoying the meal, when he heard someone's scratching at his door outside. He took his wand in his hand, just in case.<p>

"Who's there?" he asked. No one answered. He bit his lip, thinking if he should open the door and check. The portrait was silent for some reason. The scratching repeated and Draco started to get nervous.

"It's an owl," the wizard on the portrait finally informed. "My apology, young man, I was distracted by the conversation with a lady from the other portrait."

Draco relaxed, let the owl in and took the letter out of her beak when she made herself comfortable on the back of the chair. He wondered who could have written him. It wasn't Severus' owl. Perhaps, it was from someone who hated him. Just a letter full of insults. He opened the envelope, after examining it for possible curses, and extracted a piece of parchment out of it.

'_Draco,_

_As I promised, those idiots won't trouble you anymore. McGonagall was mad when she found out everything. They've got detentions with her and Filch for two months, and she's taken 100 points (!) from the Gryffindor in addition to every single point our house has earned since the beginning of this school year. She was talking to them in private without the other teachers or students, but I was there as a witness. They've admitted everything they did to you even before yesterday when I saw them attacking you. They also confessed that there were more people involved, so some more students have joined them in detentions. You could have told me about it in the first place._

_She also told them that if she finds out that they attack you again or hurt anyone else, they can pack their bags and go home, because she won't tolerate such things in her school._

_I hope you're pleased._

_Harry Potter._'

Draco smiled. He was surprised that everything had turned out so well for him. _'And since when does he call me 'Draco'?'_ he smirked to himself. _'And, yes, I'm pleased, Potter. How should I thank you? I assume, I'll just say it as soon as I have a chance.'_ He looked at his reflection in the mirror and frowned, seeing that he was smiling _'like a fool'_.

He gave the bird two pieces of the boiled beef, which were the remains of his dinner, hoping that she wouldn't bite his fingers. She didn't. He remembered that he had already seen the white owl many times in the Great Hall and it was Potter's, though he wasn't sure if it was the same owl. The white bird wasn't in hurry to leave.

"I won't write him back," Draco said and placed his forearm in front of the owl. She moved herself on an offered forearm and he let her out of his room. Draco's mood was much better now. He sat down on the bed, propping his back up with pillows and started to read the new book on The Ancient Runes.

After the end of the lessons Severus came to him. Draco hoped his godfather just wanted to inquire about his health or brought him his homework, since no one else would do it. To Draco's surprise the man pointed his wand at him almost immediately after entering the room, before the blond had a chance to say something.

"Finite," Severus muttered quietly, and Draco's disguise was removed, so all the abrasions and bruises became visible. Draco was embarrassed. The look of the man's eyes was enough to make even his godson pull his head into shoulders. _'He knows... McGonagall has told him, of course.'_

"I saw them bulling you once, and reacted properly without knowing that there was much more than that. I suspected that something has been wrong with you lately, but, apparently, I relayed too much hopes on your common sense, supposing that you would have told me about anything like this. Would you, please, explain yourself?"

"I was ashamed..." the boy admitted quietly.

"You were ashamed to bother me, telling me that you were repeatedly abused by the other students; taunted, threatened, pushed downstairs, hexed, beaten up more than once? That was utterly foolish of you, because your secrecy untied their hands completely. You've punished yourself. Why do you think I'm here? I could be staying at home, unaware of it all, equally well."

"I know..." Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

"This is the most idiotic excuse. And, as a matter of fact, it's not only your problem, it is the school's problem as well, however, quite frankly, it's not what concerns me. Do you realize that I'm responsible for you?" he kept scolding. In a strange way his concerns comforted Draco even if there were no soothing words. He just knew that his godfather meant well. _'Yes, I know you love me. Mutually,'_ Draco smiled to himself, however, he wouldn't dare to smile openly at the angry man.

"I'm sorry. I was really confused. Don't be angry with me, please. It won't happen again," he promised. Severus sighed and shook his head. He pointed his wand at the boy again to cast some examining spells.

"Show me your arm," he demanded. There was no need to ask which one, so Draco just showed his aching hardening. The skin was purple around it and there were spidery-looking blood vessels, visible under the inflamed skin. Severus cast some spells on it and the boy felt a little better. The hardening already started to resolve, though it needed time to heal.

"I see you've taken care of your bruises. Stay in bed today and rest. Are you certain there's no need to inform Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm certain. I just needed rest. I already feel better," the boy assured.

"How is your heart? Are you taking all of your daily potions?"

"Yes, I am. My heart feels better, but it was aching yesterday..."

"I'm not surprised after the details that the headmistress has shared with me," Severus frowned again. He was about to leave when Draco stopped him.

"Severus... Thank you," he said. The man nodded with a scowl and left. Draco knew his godfather was still mad, but he also knew that it wouldn't last long.

* * *

><p>The next day before the Potions, Draco saw Potter near the classroom. His two friends were arguing with each other, standing aside, so they even paid no attention when the blond Slytherin came closer to Harry, who had actually encouraged Draco to approach him with the look of his eyes, seeing that the blond wanted to say something to him, but wasn't sure if it was the right moment.<p>

"I wanted to say that I'm grateful for what you did for me yesterday, no matter what reasons induced you to do it," Draco thanked. He sounded polite, though, a little too formal, perhaps. But it was exactly how he'd planned it to be.

"You're welcome. I'm glad that it's settled," Harry nodded and even gave him a small smile.

The lesson wasn't as pleasant for Draco as usually. Severus was still angry with him and his godson could clearly feel it without any visible indications.

* * *

><p>However, everything seemed to be much better between them when they went to the Quidditch match between Slytherins and Gryffindors in the end of the week. Draco was sitting next to his godfather. The results of the match were predictable, since Potter was the Gryffindor's seeker. The Slytherin's seeker was some promising boy from the fifth year. Nevertheless, he didn't have much experience. But he was a good flyer, and he had already won the training match with Ravenclaws this year. And now they were losing to the Gryffindors. Draco wasn't really focused on the results; he enjoyed watching the game itself and the players. After all, he had used to be one! He still remembered the way the wind had been lashing his face and dishevelling his hair. He remembered how he'd felt, making all those giddy manoeuvres in the air. It had always been breathtaking...<p>

No one was surprised when the Gryffindors had won, and Harry was flying slowly and victoriously, showered with ovations, cheering and unfading attention, with the snitch in his hand. Nothing particularly new, in other words, but somehow a reminder of Draco's early school years, when losing the game had seemed to be a catastrophe, and there hadn't been many equal disappointments like that one.

"I'll go for a walk," Draco told Severus. The man nodded.

Draco was walking at a slow pace near the pitch with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. He was relaxed, enjoying the fresh air. He turned his head, feeling, rather than hearing, that someone was approaching him. It was Potter on his broom. Harry caught up with the blond and was flying next to him slowly as Draco kept walking.

"I thought **_you_**'d be a seeker of the Slytherins. Why have you given up Quidditch?" Harry asked.

"It's just... I'm not interested anymore, I believe," Draco shrugged.

"Oh, come on. You were a good seeker. And I saw you on the stands. Your eyes looked so nostalgic and fascinated. Why don't you start playing again and kick my arse, at last?" Potter grinned.

"Tempting. But I can't," Draco replied. _'_ _'Your eyes looked so nostalgic and fascinated'? Does it mean he was paying attention to me during the game? Interesting... And I care why?'_ he mused lazily.

"But why? I don't believe that the Slytherins wouldn't take you back in your team. Or is that your way to avoid attention?" Harry asked again. He threw the snitch up. The blond jumped up and caught it gracefully. He looked at it for a few moments without stopping his slow walk and then threw it back to Potter.

"In a less degree," Draco answered.

"What's the main reason then?" Harry insisted.

"I don't want to talk about it," the blond frowned a little.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. What's the problem?"

"My health."

"You mean... Are you ill?" The Gryffindor was slightly confused now.

"Tsk... You're so persistent! I will answer your question, so we wouldn't come back to this anymore. My health is undermined, thanks to Lucius and Voldemort. My heart and my lungs are not well. I had several heart attacks during tortures, which wasn't surprising, considering everything they did to me. Perhaps, it will get better later, but for now I take potions every day, and any excessive physical activity is not recommended. Yes, consider me a wreck of my former self," he explained almost mater-of-factly, not without irritation though. Actually, he felt vulnerable and almost regretted his confession immediately.

"No... I should have known. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have to be so nosy," Harry stuttered, feeling very uncomfortable with himself. He knew that Draco had been dragged through hell, but now that he'd heard it firsthand from the blond, Harry really took it to heart. He recollected Skeeter's article and felt uneasy. _'And after he endured so much pain, what must I do, but remind him of it? Stupid...'_ He also was furious about those cowards from his own house again. _'What if they have aggravated Draco's state?'_ He suddenly felt very protective of the blond. Draco noticed the look in his eyes and frowned.

"Don't you dare pity me," he said firmly, pointing his finger at Harry.

"It's not a pity. And I apologized."

"Apology accepted," Draco said coldly.

They were walking silently for couple of minutes; well, the Slytherin was walking and Harry was still on his broom alongside of him.

"Are you alright? I mean... I hope no one's bothering you anymore?" the brunet finally asked.

"No, not yet," the blond shrugged.

"Do you think they're going to start it again?"

"Eventually, perhaps. There could be someone new to replace my old 'devotees'. Don't you know that the society needs scapegoats just as much as it needs heroes?"

"I don't like the idea of you as a scapegoat."

"And I still fail to understand why _**you**_**,** of all people, care."

"Haven't I already told you that I don't carry any grudges on you?" Harry reminded.

"Anyway, I still feel that I owe you. Is there anything I can do as gratitude?" Draco asked. He didn't want to be indebted.

"We could go somewhere to have some... tea... maybe."

"And that's it?" Draco raised his eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes. I suppose, it will do," Harry nodded.

"I could arrange it in my room then," the blond offered. It was much better idea than showing himself in some public place, and he also doubted that Harry Potter would be eager to show himself anywhere with Draco Malfoy.

"Great. Then... Could you wait for me for twenty minutes or so? I'll just take a shower and change."

"Go ahead, I'll wait here," Draco shrugged. Harry flew away and the blond was waiting for him. The Gryffindor returned twenty five minutes later, this time on foot, however. He was dressed in fresh clothes.

"I'm ready," he smiled.


	4. 3 Isolation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

Lidsworth, thanks a lot for telling me. Originally, every paragraph was separated and I also enjoy making first line indents. All of it was gone once the story was uploaded. I don't know how to fix it, so I just inserted horisontal lines where I found it necessary. I hope it's better now.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate it.<p>

_**3. Isolation**_

Draco had led him into his room. Harry actually liked the room, and it wasn't as dark as he'd thought it would be. There were two desks: one in the remote corner next to the window (the window obviously wasn't real, since the room was in the dungeons) and the other one next to the door. Harry thought that Draco, most definitely, preferred to study at the one near the window, since the school books, the quill and the inkpot were placed on it. Next to that desk stood two bulky bookcases. There were a wardrobe in the room, a rather big state bed with canopy and curtains that were currently opened, a bedside table with a carafe with water and a glass on it, and a chest of drawers. The grey stony walls were decorated with three tapestries with the images of the forest and mountains, and there was also a full-length mirror (Harry couldn't imagine Draco's room without one); a cheval glass with the greenish, patinated frame, to be precise. There was a door; to the bathroom, as Harry guessed. Draco, obviously, strictly maintained the order in his room.

"It's very cosy," Harry noted. And then he noticed some movement on the bed and saw a three-coloured (brown, black and white), about one-metre-long snake.

"You have a snake?"

"It's Viperion, my pet," Draco replied, taking his overcoat off.

"He's not poisonous, is he?"

"Dipsas' are non-venomous snakes, so don't take his name into consideration. And even if he was poisonous, I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem for you to parley," the blond answered with a small smile. Harry shrugged and smiled too.

Draco placed two chairs at the desk that was near the door.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Hungry as a hunter. You?"

"Not really, but I'll keep you company."

The Slytherin called the elf and asked to bring them dinner and tea, and very soon he and Harry started to eat. The soup was delicious and the hungry Gryffindor enjoyed it a lot. Harry also liked to watch Draco eating; he was watching covertly, of course. The blonde's table manners were perfect. His deportment was still aristocratic in many ways, it wasn't taken from him.

"Congratulations, by the way. The game was quite tense and dynamic, though I haven't expected less from you," Draco complimented when they proceeded to the tea with biscuits.

"Thank you. Now I see it was really worthy if even you admit it," Harry smiled at him.

"It's just an objective truth. I'm not the one who'd flatter you," the blond shrugged.

"You have no idea how much I value it these days," the brunet sighed, but smiled again. His eyes returned to the strange window with the colourful glass. "The window... It looks so real."

"It's more than just a window. There's a garden behind it. The illusion," Draco explained.

"Could you show it to me?"

"Of course. Let's go."

Draco opened the window and got over the narrow windowsill. Harry followed him. The blond felt a little odd, showing the place to someone else. He'd got used to be alone there, so now it felt like revealing a secret, in some way.

"Wow... It's beautiful," Harry whispered.

"Yes. But I don't spend much time here," Draco replied. They moved to the bench made of stone.

"Why?" Harry asked, but somehow he already knew the answer. They sat down.

"Because this place sometimes makes me forget myself. It looks real but it's not. All of it is just a lie. I was living in illusions most of my life. Illusions and dreams are principally dangerous, one way or another."

"Some dreams are worth striving for," Harry said. He noticed the sadness on Draco's face.

"But not the unrealizable ones," the blond sighed. Albine finally appeared out of the bushes and ran to him to greet him, making loud, purring noises on the way. He scratched her head gently. And then she scrutinized a new visitor and smelled him. Harry stroked her back and took her in his arms.

"This cat feels so warm and real," the Gryffindor noted with surprise.

"Her name is Albine," Draco said.

"You were the one who named her?" Harry asked.

"Yes. The fake cat started to answer to this name, once I gave it to her."

They were sitting there for an hour, no less, talking about school, Quidditch and some other things. Harry didn't want to overstay his welcome, so he decided that it was time to go. They returned from the illusion.

"Well... Thank you very much," he said with a smile.

"You're welcome," Draco nodded.

"See you, then."

"Yes, see you."

"And Draco... That boy, your new seeker, is not fit to hold a candle to you," Harry said. Draco opened his mouth slightly, but he didn't know what to answer, a little stunned by the unexpected compliment, even if he wasn't sure if Potter was serious or just flattered him for some reason.

Harry left. He was in a great mood, but, somehow, it felt bittersweet. He thought how lonely Draco probably was in his sanctuary, even if it was quite comfortable.

* * *

><p>The very next day after lessons Harry came back to Draco's room to the blonde's surprise.<p>

"To what do I owe the honour?" the blond asked, hoping that he sounded amused, not annoyed. He definitely didn't want to make Harry change his mind and leave.

"I was just... May I come in?" Harry asked. He simply couldn't find a suitable excuse or say the truth that he just wanted to visit Draco.

"Um... Of course. Come in," the blond nodded.

"Are you busy?"

"Not really. Just doing my homework."

"Do you mind if I join you? Our common room is terribly noisy and full of people. They create such a bedlam, you have no idea," Harry said. At least, it was the truth. He really didn't mind to spend some time in peace and quiet, far from those, who were ready to worship him or actually worshipped him; and he just felt very uncomfortable, like he didn't have anything personal. Draco's place was so far from all of that.

"Very well, I don't mind," Draco replied and returned to his desk, but he sat down half-turned to his guest. He was just about to say that Potter could take the other desk, but the Gryffindor had already moved the chair to the one where Draco was sitting. The blond didn't mind though. The desk was big enough for both of them; the more so, because Harry sat down at the side of it. He started his homework too, and for about two hours they were busy and quiet. The window was opened and it actually felt very nice. Albine was lying on the windowsill, half-asleep, only turning her ears lazily in the direction of the chirping birds. Harry even wanted to call her in, forgetting that she was just an illusion and couldn't get into the room. Couple of times Draco scratched her head absentmindedly without tearing himself away from his tasks.

"Do you want some tea?" the blond finally offered.

"Yes, please," Harry agreed. Two minutes later the elf brought them a teapot of fragrant tea, two cups and a plate with biscuits. They started to drink tea and again they were talking about something, for example, about their new DADA teacher. They both enjoyed their conversation and they both were in a good mood after saying goodbyes. When Harry had left, Draco caught himself at the thought that he wanted the Gryffindor to visit him again. He wasn't sure if he would bring himself to invite him, hoping that Potter would come without any invitation, just as he had done today. Draco also realized, and almost consciously admitted to himself, that he'd begun to like him (or just his company, he wasn't sure), so allowing the Gryffindor to come to his sanctuary wasn't just a gratitude anymore for what Harry had done for him.

* * *

><p>Draco wasn't disappointed. The next day Potter came to him after dinner. The Gryffindor felt very awkward. He hadn't got an invitation to come like this again and he started to think that he was testing Draco's patience, and soon the blond boy would become sick and tired of him. However, the Slytherin didn't seem to be annoyed at all. It even seemed to Harry that, on the contrary, Draco looked quite pleased, though, it wasn't very obvious. Again they were doing their homework and talking.<p>

The more Harry learned about Draco's personality, the more he wanted to discover him further. There was something intriguing behind those grey eyes. And the boys had really started to get along.

The next day Harry didn't come, but Draco was waiting for him somewhere in the back of his mind. But then the Gryffindor visited him the other day. The visit was short. Harry just asked him about his wellbeing, they were walking in the fake garden and drinking tea. This time Draco actually asked him if he was going to come again. He asked it with the worry somewhere deep inside of him. Harry smiled at him and nodded. He was glad to hear that question. That meant that the blond wasn't tired of his company at all.

* * *

><p>Harry visited him again and again with the exception of the days off. After six or seven times he decided to make another step.<p>

"Draco, I need to tell you something," he started after they had finished doing their homework.

"I'm listening," the blond nodded, concentrating on him.

"I want to be your friend", Harry said simply. He offered his hand for a handshake. Their eyes met. Draco was stunned by the look of the sincere green eyes and felt uneasy. He looked at the hand suspiciously and unconsciously made a small step back, making Harry feel uneasy as well.

"Umm... Just like that? Why? Why would you want to make friends with the public enemy?"

"I don't care what others think."

"I don't understand. Why do you think you know more than the Ministry, or Skeeter, or simple people of our 'wonderful' Wizarding World? Is that your way to be rebellious or eccentric?" Draco was a little confused. When they were talking about something and nothing in particular, it was fine by him, but now... They had never really touched such topics before.

"No, it's not about that," Harry shook his head.

"Then what is it all about?" The blond folded his arms on his chest. _'Why are you closing yourself from me, Draco?' _the Gryffindor frowned to himself, noticing the defensive gesture, however, he didn't say it aloud. He'd hoped it wouldn't be that complicated, but his intentions were still firm.

"Look... I know enough. I know they forced you to do many things you never wanted to. I saw your face back then. They never gave you a choice. But you're not a murderer and you've never tainted your hands with blood. You could be the spoiled brat, the arrogant cynic, at least, on the outside, but it's not a crime and you're not an evil person. I wish I could see it earlier. And that was really brave of you to disobey a monster."

"It wasn't out of bravery. It was out of fear, actually. But it cost me my mother's life..."

"I'm sorry. I know you've lost a lot. I think your mother loved you and never wanted you to become a monster and a murderer. I'm sure she knew you made the right choice. And _**I**_ know you did. Otherwise, you wouldn't be the person you are anymore."

"But you don't even know me."

"I already said I know enough. You are not the person I thought you were. I want to apologize for those terrible wounds... Sectumsempra... You were in such despair and I hurt you instead of trying to understand you. I couldn't forgive myself for this. I nearly killed you..."

"Perhaps, I wanted you to," Draco sighed to Harry's dismay. In some very small part it was true: he'd once thought, when he'd been lying in the infirmary after that incident, that if Harry had killed him, no one would have blamed his mother for Draco's failure and she would have probably been left alone. But it had been just a thought from 'what ifs' category.

"But I never wanted to! I had no idea what burden you were carrying for so long. I didn't know how hard the pressure was. And... When we met long time ago, you offered me your friendship, and I refused. Perhaps, if I took your offer back then, everything would have been different."

"Or, perhaps, I would have betrayed you when Lucius ordered me to. Perhaps, not. I don't know. Don't you think it's too late to discuss it?"

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry. There's something else I want you to know. I know that you recognized me when my friends and I were brought into your Manor. I saw it in your eyes. But you didn't tell anyone. I believe that that saved my life."

"I didn't do it just for you. I did it for myself. Voldem... The Dark Lord. No... _**Voldemort**_ would have ordered _**me**_ to torture and perhaps even to kill you... to restore the 'honour' of my family in his eyes. That would have entailed my initiation and I would have got the real Dark Mark. I did whatever I could to delay it, just because there wouldn't have been a way back. Not that I really thought I could hope that..." Draco fell silent and closed his eyes for a few seconds. The sore spot was touched.

"I saw you there. I saw you among them, and I knew you were not one of them," Harry stopped for a moment. _'Like a white, wilting and lonely rose among the decaying weed,'_ he thought. He actually didn't know why this thought struck him again. But exactly this metaphor had crossed his mind when he and his friends had been captured and brought to Malfoy Manor. And it had confused him. "And your eyes... You were asking for help. Not verbally, of course," he continued softly, but without making Draco think that he pitied him, since the blond wouldn't like it. Harry knew that Draco and his parents had been cruciated by Voldemort after Harry and his friends had escaped the Manor. It saddened him to remember about it, though, of course, he knew that Draco had endured much worse later. _'Why is he talking about my eyes all the time?' _Draco thought. '_Do they betray me? Do they make me so obvious, so predictable?'_

"I also... hoped that you'd kill that maniac when the time came..." the Slytherin confessed.

"Then never doubt that you made your contribution to it," Harry assured him.

"Well, I don't know how _**that**_ could beat all my mistakes. It seems too insufficient, I'm afraid. And why would you want to befriend with me now? I have nothing to offer you." And Draco didn't mean that he had no family with all its influence, useful connections or reputation. Of course, he had nothing like that anymore. But Harry wouldn't be interested in such things anyway. Draco was talking about the recalcitrant wounds and all the scars in his soul; about his desolation. Would Harry take all of this? Draco thought it would be fair to let Harry know what exactly he was getting himself into.

"There's no need to offer me anything."

"Real friendship that, I believe, you demand, implies trust; at least, it's considered so. How can you possibly trust me?"

"I just do. And I want the same in return," Harry replied, offering his hand again. Draco looked at the hand and finally shook it, taking the offer. It felt warm.

"Friends then," he confirmed.

"Friends," Harry echoed with a small smile. _'Dear Lucius, how nice to know that you're rolling in your grave right now,' _the blond smiled to himself. He needed some time alone to think and not to let his emotions overwhelm him in front of Harry. This talk was a little too complicated and not because of the Gryffindor, Draco realized that.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like to take a bath," he said.

"Oh... I'd better get going then." Harry had already started to get up and pack his schoolbooks.

"No!" Draco nearly exclaimed, turning to him again. It made the Gryffindor sit down back on the chair and look at the other boy in puzzlement. The blond almost blushed and made his voice calm. "I mean, do you want to go now?"

"No, I don't," Harry admitted. The blond didn't want to let him go. Harry liked the feeling of it and smiled to himself.

"Then stay. It won't take long. You can take a walk in the garden or find something to read, if you wish," the Slytherin offered.

"It's all right, Draco. Take your time."

Relaxing in the warm water, the blond mused of the exact reason that had made him feel so nervous. Was it the reminding of his mother? Or the reminding of the years of fear for her and for himself? Or it was just the way Harry had opened up something in Draco that had been closed for a long time? Or, possibly, it was the fact that Harry had almost seen real Draco when no one else (except Severus, of course) had even tried to understand what he'd really felt? Who else could understand, if not a person who'd suffered so many losses himself, but hadn't become embittered, nevertheless? Harry had heard his soundless scream. It could also be the lack of simple human emotions, sincere emotions; no hate, no hypocrisy. Draco didn't know and couldn't decide if he really needed any strong emotions now. _'But, if not now, when?'_ Perhaps, it was time to relax and start a new chapter of his life? With this he got out of the bath.

After drying and dressing himself he returned into the room.

Harry was reading a big book, he'd found on one of Draco's bookshelves; a book about the ancient castles, mostly abandoned. It was old and looked expensive. There were a lot of moving illustrations that allowed the reader to see the supposed everyday life of the inhabitants as it had used to be once, and also there were pictures of those places when they had already been abandoned for centuries. The text was full of exciting stories, dark secrets, ghosts.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked, noticing the interest on Harry's face.

"Yes, this is just exciting. Makes me want to find a place like one of these to explore," the dark-haired Gryffindor smiled at him.

"Sounds extreme."

"But that's the point," Harry chuckled.

"Why don't you organize an expedition then?"

"It's easier said than done. Even if that was possible, I have no idea where to look for it."

"Actually, I know one interesting place, but you probably won't like it."

"Why?"

"Voldemort once called the Death Eaters there for the meeting," Draco replied. Harry could feel the touch of bitterness in his words.

"So what? And what was that place anyway?"

"I just know that Voldemort enjoyed the energy of that place. It's abandoned and hard to find. The cave leads inside. Very indiscernible. It used to be the underground temple. As far as I know, it belonged to some cult generations ago. I'm not sure how big the place is. But I think it is rather big. I also think they even lived there. They say those cultists performed human sacrifices. However, I can't assert if it's true or just a creepy story. I've seen just one hall and two smaller rooms. There were doors, but they were closed and no one could open them. I'm not sure anyone even tried though. There's a possibility that the temple is flooded by the ground waters by now, or ruined, at least, partly. It's hard to tell," Draco told him. Harry enjoyed listening and watching the blond, who was now spending his time in front of the mirror, titivating his hair.

"Could you show it to me some time?" the Gryffindor asked.

"It could be dangerous. I'm sure it's full of magical traps, and Merlin knows what else those cultists could leave behind," the blond warned.

"You're just inciting my curiosity, you know. To be truthful I miss my earlier years in Hogwarts; mysteries, adventures, interesting things to discover," Harry said with a dreamy look. _'Too bad we weren't friendly, to put it lightly, to experience it together,'_ he thought suddenly. Draco had the same thought and smiled sadly.

"I could show you that place someday then," he promised.

"That would be great," Harry nodded and gave him a smile.

"By the way, you can keep the book."

"But..."

"Take it as a present, Harry. I insist," Draco said. He had finally started to get used to call the Gryffindor by his first name. Harry liked the way it sounded from the boy with pleasant voice.

* * *

><p>The lessons were finally over. Harry silently cursed all the teachers one by one. As if they all were in collusion, they'd given so much homework for the next day that only the lucky students would finish it until the midnight. Well, of course, every teacher always thought that his or her subject was the most important! It was as old as time.<p>

Draco opened the door for him with a cup of hot tea in his hand and smiled. The smile was returned. He'd been expecting the Gryffindor and the tea was already prepared for two of them. Harry was about to sit at the desk, but noticed that Draco's face contorted in pain a little. He was pale. Harry took a cup that nearly slipped out of Draco's weakening hands and placed it on the desk.

"Draco..." he whispered very concerned.

"I'm fine." The blond pressed his hand to his aching chest.

"No, you're not. Come on..." Harry helped him to lie down onto bed. "I'm going after Madam Pomfrey."

"No. I've already taken my potion. It will take its effect soon," Draco promised. "Please, don't panic. Just give it time."

Harry started his homework, often looking at Draco nervously to make sure that he was really getting better.

"Draco, are you sure I shouldn't call anyone?" He put his book aside, it was hard to concentrate anyway, and approached him again.

"I'm fine, I swear," the blond sighed with a small smile. "I appreciate your concern, but there's no need to make a bustle over it."

"All right, I'm a fool then. But you scared me," Harry confessed.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Don't say that," Harry frowned a little.

"Let's do our homework. It seems to me our teachers have lost their minds today," the blond chuckled.

"You don't say. Stay in bed, I'll bring you everything," the Gryffindor insisted. Draco sighed, realizing that it was useless to argue, even if he felt much better. He sat up and propped up his back with pillows. Harry put his friend's schoolbooks next to him and returned to his own tasks. They were silent and preoccupied for some time until Harry growled and pressed his forehead to the desk.

"Your godfather is killing me," he mumbled.

"I'm sure he could say the same about you," Draco smiled in amusement. "What is it?"

"He didn't like my essay. 'Not acceptable,' he said. Tomorrow I have to hand it in and I can't even find what's wrong with it."

"Let me see." Draco took the parchment from Harry's outstretched hand enthusiastically, and started to read. Harry was secretly watching the movements of his pupils with grey irises as they were studying the lines of the text. It didn't take long for Draco to find what he was looking for. "Two things about the ingredients," he finally spoke. "For the first potion you can only use the _**extract**_ of the Cordyceps, but not the whole mushrooms. You must use the extract in powder form. And the second thing: you didn't mention that it's necessary to boil the Cretan Dittany roots for five hours separately from all the other ingredients before adding them. Everything else is perfect and quite detailed."

"Thanks," Harry smiled, taking the parchment back.

"Why do you find potions so difficult?"

"Because I can't grasp at the very heart of it. I'm sure one can not be a good potion-brewer without feeling for it. I mean I can only follow the instructions and still make some flaws. You obviously have a gift," Harry complimented.

"I hope so," Draco smiled. "But you seemed to be very, _**very**_ gifted during our sixth year," he chuckled.

"He told you about his schoolbook, didn't he?" Harry mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"No. I once saw you using it when you weren't noticing. It was full of Severus' notes. I recognized his handwriting, though it wasn't as flawless as usually."

"And you didn't tell him?"

"He found out later anyway, as you know, but... Truth to be told, we... Let's just say, it was a very hard year for both of us, and I tried to stay away from him. It was very foolish of me." The blonde's features darkened.

"Sorry..." Harry almost whispered. He changed the subject quickly, and they continued doing their homework with the easy talk.


	5. 4 Facing the world

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**_

Thank you so much for wonderful reviews.

Sara, you have nothing to worry about, because I simply don't see it any other way ;)

* * *

><p><em><strong>4. Facing the world<strong>_

Harry often spent his time in Draco's room. Most of the time, they were silently making their homework - each his own. The final year of studying was taking a lot of time, and no one had a freedom to loaf around. Harry felt fine to escape the blaze of publicity and the annoying attention, as he was trying to keep a low profile. Draco's room was a perfect retreat. But it wasn't the only reason. Strangely, the time they were spending together inspired him with peace of mind and comfort, but, at the same time, it made him feel a little nervous somewhere deep inside, though he had no idea, why. Sometimes he had to force himself to concentrate on his tasks, because his attention was riveted on Draco's somehow fascinating habit, - when he was absorbed in his thoughts, for example, writing another essay, he occasionally stroked his chin or pale-pink lips with his quill and his eyes looked meditative. Harry was very attentive, excessively attentive, to the details of the blonde's demeanour.

Sometimes they played chess and other table games, and Draco was as merciless as Ron. And even the silence wasn't awkward for neither of them.

Harry still had his ability to speak to the snakes, even though Voldemort was destroyed, so he tried to speak to Viperion, but the snake wasn't very talkative. He didn't really trust Harry and felt protective of Draco. That was probably because the dark-haired youth was the first one and the only one, who invaded Draco's personal space like this.

Soon Harry could hardly imagine his life without the blonde's company, and he wondered if Draco felt the same. Strangely the Gryffindor wanted to become special for his friend and he thought that it wasn't that difficult, considering the fact that he was Draco's only friend. The thought was selfish and unfair and he couldn't help but feel ashamed of it. No, he wouldn't take advantage of Draco's loneliness just to win his favour. On the other hand, knowing Draco, if the blond wouldn't have been enjoying Harry's company, he would have simply turned him out of doors, even if Harry was his only friend. But didn't the Gryffindor already have his favour anyway? Why did he want more? And what exactly that 'more' was? Falling asleep in the Gryffindor's dorm, he sometimes asked himself these questions, and his memories granted him with the images of the meditative Slytherin, stroking his lips with the quill, or the way he was touching his platinum blond hair, or his beautiful posture. Well, of course, Draco was very attractive, and only a blind and deaf person wouldn't have noticed it. Was it some kind of a crush or just a curiosity? No, he'd already had some 'curiosity' back in his sixth year, and it felt nothing like what he was feeling now. It had been just four of five times in the locker room with his team-mate after the Quidditch practice. Just sex to release the tension, without any obligations, especially given that the boy had had a girlfriend and hadn't intended to break up with her. Snogging with Cho and Ginny had been the same curiosity and a fleeting fit of passion, even if he still liked Ginny very much. Now that he was older, everything seemed different.

* * *

><p>It was only a month since they'd become friends. Once again, instead of studying a book on Herbology, Harry covertly studied Draco's facial expressions, finding this subject much more interesting. He'd already found a lot of the blonde's expressions and gestures, he'd never seen (or just hadn't paid attention, or simply hadn't been shown) before they'd started to get along. <em>'Am I obsessed?'<em> he thought, irritated with himself. He was now familiar with the whole set of Draco's smiles from his characteristic, distinctive sneer to the hardly noticeable little smile. But he couldn't ignore that the hard times had left the imprint of sorrow in those light grey eyes. They looked more... vulnerable.

He already knew many details of the Slytherin's expressions and how to interpret most of them, but he still wanted to learn more, absolutely convinced that there were plenty of secrets in store. He wished to unravel them eventually, since the blond had just started to open up to him. After all, Harry was an adventurer, the one, who was thrilled by the mysteries, attracted by them invincibly. At least, there were no unreadable and impenetrable masks with the lifeless eyes he used to see when someone else was around, for example, during their lessons when Draco wasn't noticing Harry's eyes on him. When he was noticing, however, his face was livening up a little as he was looking back with his deep, enigmatic eyes.

He saw a lot of sadness and sometimes regrets in Draco's eyes, and his heart was responsive to it. He wondered how badly Draco was broken and was there any way to make him whole again. The war had been harsh and merciless to both of them, but they hardly ever discussed it. It was a thorny subject. Harry also wondered if he himself would ever be whole and fully content.

Right now he found comfort in Draco's room and in his company as he'd always done lately, but was caught in the act, staring at Draco, completely forgetting about the Herbology. Just for a second some nervousness appeared on the blonde's face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About you." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Do share, please," Draco asked, slightly confused.

"It's just... Just as I expected, you're definitely nothing I thought of you when I didn't know you at all. I don't think that you've changed a lot. It's like you just never showed me the person you can be."

"Well, I never wanted to show... Or never had a chance. And you probably never wanted to know. It's... complicated."

"We shouldn't have to be rivals," Harry sighed and smiled.

"I remember we already discussed it when you offered me your friendship. And... it was interesting," Draco replied with the wry smirk.

"Wait a minute... Hurting me was interesting? Or, at least, the attempts at hurting me?" Harry asked not without some amusement.

"Yes. It seemed to be the only way to... force the emotions out of you. I mean..." Draco stopped himself, realizing that he was saying something he shouldn't.

"To force my emotions out and towards **_you_**?" Harry was now a little amazed. "Now, that was quite a statement, Draco."

"Yes... You refused to be my friend, but you couldn't refuse to be my enemy. At least, that allowed me to be somehow... close to you. Secretly, I was waiting for you to change your mind and accept my friendship someday; however, it had to be your move, not mine. But, of course, you wouldn't have done it after the way I behaved. Hmm... What a clumsy explanation. I know it doesn't make any sense, so don't go deep into analyzing it. I could have possibly changed the way I acted, but I was too angry and... stung."

"Does it mean you behaved the way you did to attract my attention? Very interesting," The Gryffindor lifted his eyebrows in surprise. In fact, he'd expected something like that in the back of his mind. He'd hoped to hear it.

"Everyone wanted your attention. I was just following the crowd," Draco joked.

"Don't try to dodge the question," the brunet chuckled, knowing how good Draco was at sidestepping the uncomfortable subjects neatly.

"Fine. I gave you so much. I wanted to hate you, I wanted to hex you within an inch of your life, I insulted your friends so many times, I bullied you; and yet, you didn't like me. How sad," he sighed with the feign sorrow. The only way to slip away from this was to turn everything into a joke.

"Charming," Harry laughed. "Very poetic."

"All right, I think I've already said too much. Let's get back to our homework, unless you want to see me embarrassing myself further," the blond frowned still half-jokingly.

"What if I do?" the Gryffindor challenged.

"No, no. I'm ending this talk." Draco waved him away.

"Well... If it's going to make you feel better, then you should know that I just couldn't ignore you. Of course, you weren't the only person who bullied me, but only you could **_really_** drive me mad," Harry admitted.

"I'm not discussing it any longer," the blond replied, already seemingly absorbed in his task, but Harry noticed the way the corners of his pink lips quirked up faintly.

* * *

><p>One day Harry noticed that the blond wasn't in the Great Hall during the breakfast and he also missed the first lessons. Between the lessons the Gryffindor went down into the dungeons to make sure that Draco was all right. The wizard on the portrait was absent and no one answered when Harry knocked. It took him a couple of minutes to remember the password.<p>

"Fide, sed cui fidas, vide," Harry said loudly. He repeated the password after another minute of waiting, wondering where the wizard was. Finally, the dark man returned into his frame and cast a suspicious glance at the boy, but let the visitor in without saying a word. Harry entered the room, but Draco wasn't there. He knocked at the door of the bathroom. No one answered and Harry opened the door tentatively, feeling uncomfortable for this intrusion. The blond wasn't there too. He also wasn't in the garden. Harry decided to wait a little. On the desk he saw a book about the Muggle Inquisition_. 'Couldn't find anything better to read about muggles, could you?' _he smiled. And then he noticed several vials of different potions on the bedside table and kneeled, examining the labels. Obviously, Draco always hid them before Harry's visits, but now the visit was unexpected. He took one of Draco's books on healing potions and kneeled before the bedside table again. He found the names of the potions and their descriptions in the book. One potion eased the breathing. Three were medicines for heart: two of them were supposed to be taken every day during the long period of time, the other one eased heartache and had to be taken when it was necessary. Two potions were very strong hypnotics that completely suppressed dreams at the same time. They could be harmful and had side effects. Harry realized that Draco's state was worse than he'd thought. Apparently, the blond suffered from the nightmares. It wasn't unexpected though. Harry sighed. He was distracted by the pleasant scent as he inhaled. It was coming from the bed. Almost unconsciously Harry buried his face into the pillow and inhaled again. _'Is this the way his hair smells?'_ he smiled to himself. He'd never had an opportunity to come to Draco close enough, so he could smell his scent this clearly, but it was definitely the way he smelled. He'd never really paid attention to it consciously, before now. His mind immediately sent him the image of the blond youth with the delicate-looking ivory skin, beautiful grey eyes and almost thin, but sensual, lips. Draco... He was embarrassed by the way his manhood awakened at the image. _'Is it a perversion to think about him this way? Yes, it's obviously a perversion to get into the privacy of the other people's rooms, scrutinize their potions to learn more about their health issues and... smell their pillows, thinking of some indecency,'_ he scolded himself.

"Humans are strange. You even smell without using your tongues." A hiss behind his back made him jump. He thought he was caught in the act and almost started to seek excuses in his mind, but very soon he realized that it was just Draco's snake Viperion, so he sighed in relief.

"Your human smells wonderful," Harry hissed back.

"Are you searching for it for mating?"

"No," the Gryffindor replied and chuckled to himself.

"Why are you smelling its nest? Your nature is alien to me."

"It's hard to explain. Do you know where your human is?"

"No. It can not speak to me."

"Right... I have to go," the youth sighed, remembering that he still had lessons.

During the next break he headed to the hospital wing, really starting to worry, because Draco was still nowhere to be seen, however, Pomfrey said that she hadn't seen him for a long time. The only place where Harry could search for him now were Snape's personal chambers, since the man was absent all day, too, and his lessons had even been cancelled. Harry knew that Snape was the only person Draco trusted with his health, so if he wasn't feeling well, he, very likely, could be in the man's care. He went into the dungeons again. Instead of a painting, the entrance was guarded by a statue of a big jug with the head of a snake leaning out of it. The snake shifted a little when he approached and then slithered out of the jug, spreading its hood. It was almost three-metres-long! But it couldn't leave the jug completely, since the tip of its tail was attached to it. The big cobra looked like it was dancing in its own way. Harry couldn't help, but make a step back. It actually looked discouraging.

"I only wanted to knock," he assured.

"Parselmouth?" The snake seemingly relaxed. Harry thought that the statue, somehow, had a 'soul' of a real snake, its essence. How else could it speak to him?

"I'm looking for your master."

"Master and the younger human have left."

"Thank you," Harry sighed and turned to leave. 'The younger human' was, most definitely, Draco. The cobra slithered back into the jug, hiding its long and thick body.

In the end, Harry made it to his dormitory and retrieved the Marauder's Map out of his trunk, - a thing that he hadn't been using for some time, as there'd been no necessity. But even the Map didn't show Draco's location. He obviously even wasn't in the castle, which was confusing.

After the lessons, when the dot with Draco's name had finally appeared on the unique piece of parchment, Harry returned into the dungeons hurriedly, and saw his friend entering his room.

"Wait!" the Gryffindor exclaimed. The blond smiled at him and they entered together.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes. But I'm very thirsty," the Slytherin sighed. Harry noticed that he looked a little tired and... sad.

Soon they were drinking tea as usually.

"I was looking for you almost all day. Don't be mad at me, but I was in your room while you were away," Harry confessed, holding back the fact that nearly a half of the day he'd spent on pins and needles, worrying about him.

"That's all right. I'm not mad," the blond replied, shaking his head.

"And... I saw something that made me worry." Harry cast a glance at the bedside table. The vials were still there. Draco tracked his glance.

"Oh... This?.." he mumbled.

"I know it's probably not my business, but you stuff yourself with potions that are harmful."

"Not as harmful as suffering from the lack of sleep," Draco parried. "Please, let's end this conversation. You know that I don't like to discuss my health."

The truth was that after he had been abusing the Dreamless Sleep Potion, taking it every single night for many months, it had simply stopped taking effect on him properly. It hadn't been enough, to put it lightly. The nightmares had returned with revenge. So, since the beginning of the school year, Draco had started to brew other potions that were making him sleep like a log till the very morning without any dreams. Those potions were strong and his awakenings were hard; and first twenty or thirty minutes he was in a state, resembling a hangover, even though the potions had nothing to do with alcohol. Draco knew the side effects were harmful, even for someone, who was absolutely healthy, but so were the sleepless nights and the nights plagued with the nightmares (and sometimes even waking up in wetted bed, which was a severe hit on everybody's self-esteem).

He knew too well what he would have dreamt about - tortures, murders, Nagini. He would have dreamt about mother, talking to him about something and embracing him; her smile, which made him wake up in tears. He felt guilty, because sometimes he tried not to remember her at all, and didn't allow himself to dream about her even in some pleasant dreams, because it was too painful to wake up just to realize that she was dead, and remember the way she'd died. Memories were still too fresh; memories of her dead body on the floor of the cold and dirty chamber, where he'd been lying next to her, embracing her and sleeping close to her as if he'd tried to protect her body, as if she could have protected him from all the pain. Going insane because of pain and sorrow, he'd been whispering to her something senseless. There was even no grave he could visit, because her body wasn't found.

Harry saw that the sadness and tiredness on the blonde's face intensified, and decided that it really wasn't the best time for this talk.

"Once again, sorry for intruding your room. I was just worrying why you've missed today's lessons. I thought you weren't feeling well."

"I was released today. By the Ministry. It's my duty to go there every month. Sorry for not telling you yesterday."

"Oh... The interrogation, right?"

"Yes. They stuff me with Veritaserum and ask me plenty of stupid questions to make sure that I don't constitute a menace for our society," Draco replied.

"It's not fair. Haven't you gone through enough already?" Harry frowned.

"Well, they have a very different point of view."

"It's disappointing..." the brunet muttered. He saw that Draco was upset. Harry hadn't been risking his life for winning the war to watch the oppressing of those, who hadn't deserved it. Had his expectations been so childish and naive back then?

"Please, stop. I don't want to come back to it now," the blond frowned. He decided not to tell that he had blabbed out about his friendship with Harry Potter and his two interrogators hadn't let him go for almost an hour and a half instead of usual one hour because of that fact. They had asked a great many questions from 'Who was an initiator of your umm... friendship?' to 'Are you sure you mean no harm to Harry Potter? It's quite odd that you've started to get along all of a sudden.' and 'Don't you want to take revenge for a feud you had in past?' He'd felt sick when he'd been finally dismissed.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"It's all right, Harry. It's... rather my fault. Don't be offended, please."

"Why should I be offended?" the Gryffindor wondered.

"Well, I may seem very moody today. You start the conversation and I shut your mouth."

"No, I am the one who chooses the inappropriate topics. I just worry about you," Harry confessed.

"I appreciate it," Draco gave him a small smile.

"Are you hungry?" Harry finally changed the subject.

"A little," the blond nodded. Veritaserum always left him very thirsty and a little hungry.

"Then... Would you like to go somewhere to have a dinner? Just two of us. It's Friday, almost a day off already, so we could leave the castle."

"Are you going to go out with me in public? Aren't you afraid for your reputation?" Draco looked a little surprised.

"It's the last thing I care about," Harry assured him and snorted.

"Well, I don't know. A man is known by the company he keeps," the blond smiled.

"I want to go out and have a good time with you. I want you and me to enjoy the delicious food. If some idiots are not going to like it, they can go fuck themselves."

"What a language, Harry Potter! You're such a charming conversationalist," Draco laughed. He was amused and the invitation had put him in good spirits.

"Sorry," Harry smiled. "I'll go change into something decent."

"Restaurant then?"

"Yes."

"Very well. But first, I have to go and let Severus know that I'm leaving the castle."

"I'll collect you here then," Harry said before leaving. He felt excited and very much like he'd just invited someone on a date. He even blushed at the thought.

Draco found Severus in the Potions classroom where the students of different years were serving their detentions, cleaning everything and putting everything in order as a punishment. Severus noted to himself that Draco's face, _**finally**_, looked happier than the faces of those punished students in the classroom. He was pleased to know that his godson was getting out of the castle (or out of his shell?).

"Of course, Draco. Have a good time," he smiled slightly. It had been so long since he saw Draco smiling so openly and sincerely without forcing himself. And those present students for the first time saw their professor smiling, even if the smile was very small, however, they weren't given even this. Instead, the stern look of the black eyes made them return to their work immediately.

* * *

><p>Harry was smiling, eyeing Draco from top to toe. Not that Draco had ever looked untidily, but... The blond hair was perfectly arranged, the black coat, almost knee-length, was dressed over the elegant suit; the dark-green scarf, the black leather gloves... He couldn't help, but think: <em>'Perfection personified...'<em>

"Great," he said quietly, still smiling.

"And yet, Harry... I could take Polyjuice. I do it almost every time I leave the school to avoid the attention. I don't leave often, but I..." The blond was interrupted.

"No. No, Draco. Why do you keep thinking that I'm ashamed of your company?" Harry shook his head.

"Because I don't want you to regret it if the front pages of tomorrow's newspapers will cover the details of the Saviour, strolling around with the Death Eater. I'm a pariah, Harry, why don't you understand?"

"I won't regret anything. And you're not a Death Eater."

"But they do not care."

"And **_I_** don't care what they think or say. I'm very glad to spend time with you and I don't want you to hide behind the mask of someone else," Harry frowned. _'The only face I want to see right now is yours,'_ he thought to himself, and then he grinned. "You are the one who should be ashamed of my company. Such a well-mannered, well-groomed and elegant young man is going to a decent place with such a slovenly one, who can't even tie his tie properly," he chuckled, pulling the said tie slightly and showing the untidy knot on his neck. His derisively-annoyed facial expression betrayed the fact that he'd been trying to deal with that for some time. Almost twenty minutes, actually. He had never been good at it and he often asked someone else to help him or just left it like that, untidy.

"Allow me," Draco offered with a smile. He, of course, had noted Harry's compliment. It had been a long since he received any, but half of them had sounded more like a flattery. Harry's was sincere and very pleasant.

"Yes, please," the Gryffindor nodded eagerly. After taking his gloves off, Draco came closer to him, untied the knot, slightly smoothed the strip of fabric with his hands and started to tie it again. There was a small smile on his face, his eyes avoided to look in Harry's. The brunet was watching his face carefully and with interest. His face was so close... Draco felt that he was watched and smiled shyly. He just couldn't bring himself to face the green eyes. _'He's about to blush. Is he shying?'_ Harry thought, smiling to himself. It was certainly a new display for his collection of Draco's smiles and facial expressions! His own face became warmer. Draco was close enough for Harry to bathe in his fresh and pleasant scent. The dark-haired youth finally blushed at the remembrance of smelling Draco's pillow earlier this day. The blond bit his lip slightly, continuing to smile. He almost finished with a tie. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the face in front of him.

He noticed that he was the same height as the blond. The Gryffindor remembered that during their third and fourth years Draco had been slightly taller, but then the brunet caught up with him in height. However, Draco was thinner and seemed lighter, and his shoulders were narrow. Harry's body had become more fit due to his adventures last year, and he also kept playing Quidditch.

"Well... This is it," the blond stated. He stepped back after straightening the tie and the collar of Harry's shirt. Only then he dared to cast a glance in the green eyes. They approached the cheval glass.

"Thank you. To be honest, I always ask Ron, Hermione or someone else to do it. But they never do it so neatly," the Gryffindor smiled sincerely.

"Uhm..." Draco hemmed thoughtfully. "There's a spell for it, but it went clean out of my mind. You can look for it to make your life easier. But until then you can ask me," he shrugged.

"I'll keep this in mind," Harry smiled again. "Well, aren't we gorgeous?" he feigned the pompousness, watching them both in the mirror. And then he smiled at Draco's reflection and it returned the smile. They were, indeed, looking great.

They apparated to Wizarding London and were walking down the streets at a slow pace, searching for a good restaurant. People were making Draco feel confused or even scared. Both Harry and Draco were quite recognizable and many eyes were looking at them. Draco knew he was watched, and even when no one paid attention or supposedly didn't even recognize him, paying more attention to Harry, he still felt uneasy among all of those strangers. In fact, he wasn't far from panic. Harry could swear he was feeling Draco's nervousness, and he suppressed the urge to take his hand and squeeze it to encourage the blond and to soothe him. _'This would look very strange,'_ he thought, slightly perplexed with the idea.

They had finally chosen a very cosy restaurant. The light inside was slightly dimmed. They sat at the table in front of each other, far from the exit to feel more comfortable, and looked through menus.

"Have you decided yet?" Harry asked.

"Um, no, not yet. You?" Draco replied.

"I don't know... But, I'm warning you, I refuse to eat any culinary perversion," the brunet grinned.

"May I advise you something then?" the blond smiled back.

"Sure."

Fifteen minutes later they were eating an outstanding chicken fillet with vegetables and delicious exotic sauce. Draco tried to ignore the disturbed gazes of two middle-aged people (husband and wife, most definitely). Harry noticed it and looked at them with the scowl on his face.

"Morons," he shrugged, without looking at them, but his voice was loud enough, so he knew that they'd heard him. And then he cast another glance at them. They obviously found another topic to discuss and stopped staring at the notorious blond next to great Harry Potter. Draco chuckled softly.

At first he felt rather uncomfortable and out of place. Only the reassuring green eyes in front of him made him feel better and warmer. Music helped too: the enchanted harps and cellos were playing something very relaxing and beautiful. It was something that could fill souls with pleasant calmness and make the atmosphere free and easy. Soon Draco already paid no attention to anyone around. It was just Harry and him. They were enjoying the music and each other's company, talking about something, leisurely eating the delicious food and drinking some white wine. They both were in exceptional mood. Their dessert consisted of fruits and they were eating it even more leisurely, not willing to leave any time soon. When it was time to leave Harry insisted on paying for the dinner, motivating it by the fact that it was _**he**_, who'd invited Draco. The blond agreed soon, but only with one condition: next time he would be the one to pay, since they both were eager to repeat such pleasant experience.

They didn't want to return to the castle yet and decided to go for a walk.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," Harry said with a smile. Draco stopped and Harry turned to the nearest street. The blond had been waiting for him for ten minutes or so. Harry returned with some small bag.

"What's in there?" Draco asked with curiosity, looking intrigued.

"You'll see," Harry grinned and they continued their walk.

They were walking past three people that even stopped and stared at them. The blond sighed.

"Ignore them. They're just jealous. They envy me," Harry smiled at him with a delicate hint, and gave him another look of... something that resembled the adoration very much.

"I really doubt that," Draco laughed quietly.

When they apparated to someplace near Hogwarts, it was already evening, and the time of a curfew was approaching, but they still were in the mood for walking a little more near the Forbidden Forest. When Harry saw a stub, he came closer to it and opened the mysterious bag.

"What's on your mind?" Draco asked. The Gryffindor pulled something out of the bag. It was a wizarding camera. He couldn't help but buy it. He'd wanted it for a long time, but now it was really an appropriate occasion to provide himself with one, in his opinion. The idea had suddenly come to him when they'd been sitting in a restaurant and he'd desperately wanted to take a picture of the face in front of him.

"I want to take a picture of us. I want something to remind me about this evening," he replied and placed the camera on the stub.

"Then make it in duplicate. I want one, too," Draco said and cast 'Lumos', so they both would be seen well on the pictures.

After taking a couple of pictures of them, standing together, they returned to the castle. Harry accompanied Draco to his room.

"Thank you," Draco smiled slightly.

"You too, Draco," Harry nodded.

"You better hurry up. It's almost a curfew."

"Yes, right. Good night," the Gryffindor nearly whispered.

"Good night, Harry," the blond replied just as quietly and softly.

Harry headed to the Gryffindor's tower. There'd been some incompleteness in their goodbyes. Yes, something was missing to make their evening together complete. Harry was puzzled by this feeling on the way to the dorms. _'A kiss or a touch. Just a small one,'_ something in his mind prompted. He blushed and frowned at himself.

Draco felt the same, taking off his clothes before getting into bath with the comfortably hot water.

Ignoring this feeling, they both were happy after sharing such a good time.

Harry's head lay down on the dark-red pillow. His heart felt warm and he smiled, replaying this evening with Draco in his mind and the way all of his senses had been bewitched by the grey eyes. With these thoughts he fell into a blissful sleep.

Draco's head lay down on the dark-green pillow. He smiled, thinking about Harry and how grateful he was for the invitation. It seemed it had been forever since he'd been in a place like that, having such a good time. All of it made him forget about much less pleasant beginning of the day that he had spent in the Ministry. It actually made him forget about everything! No, nothing troubled him this night. He fell asleep after taking his potions.

Harry's dream was calm and pleasant. The only thing he could remember after awakening was a clear night sky with thousands of stars and for some reason he'd made a wish, looking at them. He couldn't remember exactly what he'd wished for. But, doubtlessly, it had had something to do with Draco, because right after he'd made it, he'd lowered his eyes just to see the blond walking in his direction.

"I... didn't expect it would come true _**this**_ quickly," Harry had smiled at him. Draco hadn't seemed to understand the meaning of those words, but smiled back. And then Harry woke up with the same smile he'd had on his face when he'd been falling asleep last night. _'Draco...'_

Draco didn't have any dreams because of his potions, but in the morning he woke up in unusually wonderful mood.

* * *

><p>AN "Fide, sed cui fidas, vide" - (Draco's password) is the Latin expression, which means "Trust, but verify"


	6. 5 Now you know

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Amazing reviews, thank you :).

* * *

><p><em><strong>5. Now you know<strong>_

Most days off, Harry spent with Ron and Hermione. He often invited Draco for a walk with them, but the blond always refused. He wasn't really jealous of Harry, and never complained about him spending time with them. But he would never think of himself as a part of their company. It would be simply awkward and, most definitely, not only for him. This Sunday wasn't an exception, but Harry promised to come to him after the walk.

"You look upset. What happened?" Harry asked after entering the room. Knowing of Draco's facial expressions made him conclude that something was wrong, even if it wasn't obvious.

"Oh... It's nothing. I just fell into a doze and saw a dream about Lucius. I haven't got used to see any dreams lately because of the potions, so... It was frustrating. I hate it, Harry," Draco sighed.

"I see... For years I had terrible nightmares, aside from the things I saw through Voldemort's eyes. Strangely, my dreams have got better after war's end. I thought they would haunt me till the rest of my life. I mean people who died..." Harry said slowly.

"Lucius is dead, fortunately, but all the things he did... It just doesn't let me go. I'm not sure I'll be able to live in the Manor when the Ministry unseals it. I used to love our home, until Lucius let the maniac in there. Harry, he welcomed the mad psychopath to the house where his wife and son lived. I feel sick, even thinking about it. He allowed him to torture and kill people in our rooms. I thought I'd lose my mind... You have no idea how much I wanted to run away. Just anywhere. I knew I'd join those tortured people someday, I knew it... And then he... killed my mother just to hurt me. I'm not sure I will ever be able to overcome it. I know I deserved it, so I have no right to complain..." Draco was nervous and upset and his voice was trembling.

"No... No, Draco. No one deserves to be betrayed by their own father like that. You did nothing to deserve any of that. But it's over and you survived. You have to try to leave it behind."

"You have no idea how many times I've told the same thing to myself."

Draco convulsed uncontrollably, his face contorted at the memory of tortured people in his own manor. For what had they died? Some for the 'useful' information (for example, they'd been tortured until they'd given away the places where mudbloods had been hiding, to find them and perpetrate another unthinkable massacre). Many others had died just for the psychopath's entertainment. Draco's manor, his home... The very walls along with every single object had been saturated with Voldemort's taint. It had been in the air, making Draco learn the real fear of the dark when he'd been alone in his rooms, the fear of walking through the corridors of his own home. That had been making him paranoid to no end, twitchy. He'd been feeling sick as if he'd been slowly dying from some disease or slowly losing his mind; maybe both. It had led him to the nervous exhaustion. Had he been so weak and pathetic or it was normal for a human mind to break under such circumstances? And it had happened after his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he'd thought that it couldn't have been any worse. It obviously could. It had left its imprint on his very being. Harry, when he'd offered him friendship, had told him that he, Draco, hadn't belonged there. Harry had seen it when he'd been captured. Draco had been a stranger among the others. He and his mother...

Sometimes he still couldn't believe that Lucius had done all that to him. To his own son. To his very loyal son, who had never allowed anyone to cast a scowling glance at his father, let alone say a disrespectful word about him! He'd always wanted his father to be proud of him, to earn his love he'd never really felt. He'd even broken Harry's nose once, blaming him for Lucius' imprisonment. He'd respected him, admired him, even if he'd always been a little afraid of him. And Lucius had betrayed him without batting an eyelid, as if Draco hadn't been his. Draco had never thought that he'd been _**that**_ unloved and expendable.

"You're a wonderful person, better than anyone could have imagined. You're unique, and you mean so much to me," the Gryffindor said softly. To Draco's surprise Harry took his hand in his and squeezed it supportively. The gesture was heart-warming and very required. It was somehow purifying. And... It was a touch. Draco could hardly remember when was the last time another human being touched him, especially with such confident support. Well, there had been a handshake before, but now it felt even more special. It felt breathtaking.

"I think you need to unbend and let off some steam," Harry smiled.

"What do you suggest?"

"A duel."

"This would be great; however, I have no wish for getting into another trouble with the Ministry."

"I'll take the whole responsibility for this," Harry promised. He could see that Draco was interested. "Oh, come on. They can't forbid you to train. I see you definitely want to have some fun."

"Very well, I accept your challenge," the blond finally smiled.

For the lack of space, the duels on the platform sometimes ended too soon, so they'd chosen a Room Of Requirement instead. It looked like a remarkable big round hall of the abandoned ancient castle with columns and statues of the gargoyles near the walls. The walls and the columns were partly overgrown with plants that twined about it. The hall had a lot of free space for manoeuvre.

"Impressive... Well, I'm at your service," Draco bowed when they took their positions.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry grinned, remembering their duel years ago.

"You wish," the blond frowned, but was nearly laughing.

At first Harry was afraid to exhaust Draco and was concerned about his health, but Draco strived with passion, pushing himself to the limit. It had been a long since he felt so free. They had breaks, however, to catch their breath. Harry was impressed by the Slytherin's ability to dodge spells. He looked so lithe, when he was dodging and whirling about the hall, that Harry couldn't stop admiring. It was a beautiful fight. Harry couldn't help, but compare it with some passionate dance. It was more an art than just a fight. Nevertheless, they were careful enough not to harm each other badly. And Draco was impressed by Harry's skills, power and the green fire in his eyes. He wondered how many enemies had faltered under the powerful look of these eyes. The Gryffindor was making him scamper around a lot! And he made the Slytherin move especially fast when he turned three cobras, summoned by Draco, against Draco himself. However, Harry was a poor Occlumens, so Draco used Legilimency during the fight to divine some of his intentions (though he used it very carefully, on the very surface of Harry's mind not to make him feel any headaches afterwards) and prevented a lot of spells. He was still a Slytherin and had a lot of tricks in stock, so he could dare to withstand even the Saviour, who was more straightforward.

Once again Harry was grateful that Draco wasn't afraid of him because of his name. He hated the awed eyes of the people that he duelled during the DADA lessons; they couldn't simply take the fact that he was a human, not a god, and they were ready to lose beforehand, as a result; they never thought it was worth trying their best. So he enjoyed Draco's persistence greatly.

Right after they had returned to Draco's room and the blond had gone to take a bath, Harry wrote a letter to the Ministry, so Draco wouldn't have any troubles. At least, there were the advantages of being a Saviour that were quite useful.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked when his friend returned from the bathroom.

"I'm perfectly fine," Draco smiled. He held back the fact that he had taken a potion to soothe his aching heart and literally burning lungs, while he'd been in the bathroom, knowing for sure that Harry would have blamed himself for this. Harry suspected nothing, seeing the blonde's eyes full of life and excitement after their duelling. The Gryffindor smiled back happily.

"You have such an impressive style of fighting," he admitted, drying his hair after using the bath as well.

"I could say the same about you," the blond returned the compliment.

"Mind telling me about the shield you used couple of times?"

"Which one?"

"The one that was creating a dim purplish-grey light in front of you."

"Ah, that one... Well, I found it in an ancient book and Severus helped me to learn to use it properly. It can be referred to the Dark Arts. Almost. You sacrifice a small amount of your own blood, but you don't really feel it. There are no wounds or cuts. It protects the caster for, at least, two minutes and they can attack while protected," Draco explained.

"But it's not wandless, is it?"

"It is not. You cast it, using your wand, pointing it on the ground in front of you, but then you keep it sustained with your free hand and attack with your wand or even cast some other kind of a shield above this one."

"Tell me more about it," Harry asked.

"You see, it's very powerful against many spells, except the Unforgivables and a very few others, but it takes a very good concentration from the caster. If you were careful enough, you could have seen the pulsation of it, because it's attached to the caster's heartbeat. It becomes lighter with a beat of a heart and dims between the caster's heartbeats. You can break through it with powerful or even not very powerful spell if you choose the right time for a hit when the light is the dimmest. Thereby, you hit right in the middle of the pause between the heartbeats and the shield breaks. So there's still a chance of being hit accidentally. It can be strengthened, however, and it lasts longer, but, in this case, the caster must stop attacking and concentrate only on their defence. It takes more blood, more power and more concentration. I also prefer this one, because it protects from the physical attacks, too. Most magical shields, even the strongest ones, protect the caster only from the magical attacks. But then again, this one isn't easy to master and it's not perfect, just like all the other shields. Almost every time I cast it, I'm a little worried that it won't work at all."

"What about your spell-reflector? I've seen the similar ones, but I've never seen the one you used. If I'm not mistaken, the incantation was 'cautus reflexus' or something like that."

"It's not that hard, but it takes a good reaction. You cast the spell, making this move with your wand," Draco showed the move. "At the same time, you take a small step back. And when the opponent's spell hits the shield, you push forward on your opponent right away, against the resistance, not just with your arm, but with your entire body. The more powerful your lunge, the better. If everything was done right and in the right moment, not only it's going to reflect the spell, but it will also make it more powerful. I can teach you if you're interested."

"That would be very nice of you. I still train the other students in the Duelling Club sometimes. Would you like to join us?" Harry offered.

"I'm afraid, not. But I could teach you whatever you find interesting, and you could show it to the others. I could learn a lot of things from you, too. After all, I've lost more than a half of the rounds against you," the blond smiled.

"All right. But the score stood at six to five; I call it a draw," Harry grinned.

"I can't help, but feel curious... I suspect that you yielded to me, at least, once. At the very least." The blond crossed the arms on his chest, looking at his friend searchingly.

"It's not true," the Gryffindor frowned.

"All right." _'Liar...'_

"If you'll ever change your mind about the Duelling Club, you'll be welcomed, I promise."

"Thank you," Draco nodded.

They were drinking tea and talking about spells and duels. Both of them had something to share. Draco was again fascinated with Harry's attentive green eyes. They reminded him of a forest late spring, and this metaphor was incredibly refreshing. They were watching his every move when he was talking. Yes, Harry was watching Draco's chiselled features and listened to him with delight.

They asked the elf to bring them dinner into the room, since neither of them really wanted to have it in the Great Hall. They felt too comfortable with each other.

"Bon appétit," Draco smiled.

"Same to you," Harry replied, looking very hungry.

"Don't forget, we have a lot of homework to do for tomorrow," the blond reminded.

"I've been hearing these words all day. You sound like Hermione," the Gryffindor sighed.

"Should I regard it as an insult?" Draco chuckled.

"All right, you sound much better," the brunet grinned.

* * *

><p>It was a little more than two months of their friendship and they'd begun to feel more at ease with each other. They'd started to talk about their past. Harry told Draco most things about his fight against Voldemort, about what had been happening at school and during the year that had had to be their seventh, about his adventures, about his pain. The Wizarding World already knew maybe a half of that, but Harry's story was <em><strong>much<strong>_ more than that. Draco told him his in return. All of it was too hard for them, but sharing something like that seemed to make them even closer. Their interactions were like a second life for both of them and it was very personal. Of course, Hermione and Ron had noticed the changes in Harry long ago, the way he was exchanging words with Draco between their lessons and that he often spent his time somewhere without telling them. When Harry was bluntly asked if he was friends with Draco, he answered in the affirmative. Ron just shrugged; he didn't really care, completely sure that Harry wasn't a naive child and knew who he could trust. But Hermione was making a fuss over it, insisting that Malfoy was using him. Harry firmly gave her to understand that it was his own business, without giving her any explanations or excuses. She just had to accept the fact. They never discussed it after that.

Draco couldn't really understand what exactly he was feeling towards Harry, however, he knew that his feelings had already crossed the line of just friendship. He was very responsive to Harry's mood and detected the slightest changes. He wasn't sure if that was some sixth sense or just his keenness of observation. Most likely, it was the latter, and that made him believe that he was examining Harry's handsome face far too often and too attentively, and listening to him equally avidly. At first he'd thought that it all was due to his lack of the intercourse, since he had no other friends, but now he was sure it was something else.

Harry had begun to notice the changes in Draco's demeanour that he'd never noticed before. The grey eyes were smiling at him often; sometimes he saw the blond shying away, hardly noticeably, when Harry was too close. His smiles slightly changed. The Gryffindor wondered if Draco himself realized all of it. Those small details could be called... seductive. _'No, that's nonsense. I only try to pass the desirable for reality. I just stare at him all the time and he's probably confused about it. Does he feel that I'm attracted to him? Or he's just so alluring that I'm losing my head and see things that he doesn't imply?'_ Harry asked himself, very confused. Lately he longed to go to Draco even more frequently than ever before and he was always welcomed.

* * *

><p>The first thing that met Harry was a strong smell of herbs. Draco let him in with a smile and they went to the bathroom. There were four cauldrons on the floor. Two of them were simmering and the other two were empty, but supposedly prepared for the brewing. There also were some empty and clean vials and jars, dozens of ingredients in vials, jars and boxes; ladles, stirring sticks, measuring spoons, measuring glasses, a mortar with a pestle, a knife and a board for chopping, an alembic made of glass and other equipment for the potion-making. But even all these things were in order; there was no chaos in the bathroom.<p>

"And I intended to lure you out of your room to go for a walk," Harry sighed.

"Sorry. I thought you weren't going to come here today, so I asked Severus to give me something to do. You know, he's brewing a lot of things for Pomfrey's stocks, and I've taken some part of his work. For some points, of course." Draco rolled his eyes in the end and smiled innocently. Harry chuckled.

"Go on then, brew. I'll keep you company or help you if I can," he offered, sitting down on the floor.

"I wish I had a better place for brewing. You could bring yourself a chair."

"No, I'm quite comfortable here on the floor. And what exactly are you brewing?"

"Right now I'm starting to make a very good salve for treating any kind of burns, even those caused by magic."

"And what's in this cauldron?"

"A bone-mending potion. It's almost ready. Takes eight hours of brewing,"

"Does it taste as foul as Skele-gro?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I haven't tasted Skele-gro, but this potion tastes awful."

"I'm sure it does," Harry smiled. "And what about this one?" He pointed at the bigger cauldron.

"There are some allergic students that suffer in Herbology. Pomfrey gives them this potion, at least, once in two weeks or, perhaps, even more often to some of them. Almost ready, too."

"I see. So, how can I help?"

"The salve... Would you be so kind as to pass me the leaves of round-leaved sundew? Oh, it signed as 'Drosera rotundifolia leaves'."

"Isn't it the plant that feeds on insects?"

"Yes, it's carnivorous."

"Here." Harry passed him a jar. His fingers accidentally grazed Draco's hand gently and the blond nearly dropped the jar.

"Thanks. I also need some Pulmonaria juice," he said imperturbably, but his eyes avoided the look of the green ones, confusing Harry.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, a lot of things, actually. Hippophae oil; it's probably signed as 'Sea-buckthorn oil'. Pegasus' hair, Hippocampus' hair, beeswax, seeds of the silver epilobium; it's right in front of you. And, please, look for a jar with the light-beige powder, signed as 'Powdered Haliotis shells'."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Everything else I have here at my elbow."

"And you're making this all day long?"

"Since nine in the morning. Like I said, I had nothing else to do and you know that I enjoy brewing. It's good to develop my capabilities. I have to practice," the blond shrugged.

"It's a pleasure for you, but for me it would be like a self-inflicted detention," Harry chuckled. His smile was contagious.

During the next two hours he was watching Draco's elegant hands and thin, pale forearms as the sleeves of the Slytherin's bright-white shirt were rolled up. He was preoccupied with brewing. All Harry had to do (and really wanted to do) was reach out and slowly pass his hand from the blonde's elbow to his fingertips...

"Interesting." He started to talk to get rid of the embarrassing thoughts.

"What?"

"This salve requires the hair of two magical horses."

Draco chuckled: "Guess, where I got Pegasus' hair."

"Um... I don't know."

"Think," Draco shrugged with a smirk on his face.

"Oh my god... The Tri-wizard Tournament!" the Gryffindor exclaimed.

"That's right."

Harry gasped: "You cut the manes of... Gods, Draco. How did you do that?"

"Several nights I sneaked to the winged horses and fed them with apples. They enjoyed it greatly and ate right from my hands. They even started to wait for me every night, allowed me to touch them, even their wings. Normally those creatures don't like it when someone touches their wings. And finally I carefully cut the manes of four of them. I know it sounds barbaric, but it wasn't as terrible as it sounds. They didn't mind at all, believe it or not. I also picked their feathers off the ground. I brought all of it to Severus. He reproached me at first, but still took it. I cut enough hair so we still have some. Madame Olympe Maxime nearly had a heart attack."

"I'm sure she nearly killed Hagrid for failing to keep an eye on them. And you bribed them with apples! Draco..." Harry tisked and chuckled, shaking his head.

"I know, I know. But you should know that the winged horses are very intelligent creatures and they wouldn't allow me to take anything from them if they weren't ready to give it willingly. It was just a deal and everyone was satisfied with the conditions. I sneaked to them afterwards and brought them more apples. I even missed them when they left Hogwarts," the blond confessed.

"I'm sure they missed you too." Harry imagined the picture of Draco playing with the white winged horses, feeding them and talking to them. The pictures in his mind were fascinating. "What about Hippocampuses?"

"I don't know. I suppose Severus just buys their hair. It's quite an expensive ingredient, as far as I know."

Soon the reddish salve was prepared.

"What now?" Harry asked.

"A potion to subdue a fever. Not very hard to brew, but some ingredients have to be brewed separately before adding them."

When everything was ready, they filled jars with salve, bottled the potions in clean and empty vials, corked them up and signed the labels.

"Well, I hope I haven't ruined your day," Draco smiled.

"Not at all. On the contrary, I had a good time," Harry admitted.

"You have my gratitude." The blond inclined his head in a polite manner.

"But I haven't done anything really useful."

"I enjoyed your company."

"I... wanted to ask what you are planning for Christmas or... Winter Solstice? It's only in a week and a half," Harry reminded.

"Nothing, I guess. I'll stay at school with Severus. What about you?"

"I'm going to Weasleys. Would you like to join? Ron wouldn't mind, that's for sure," the Gryffindor assured, but he already knew the answer.

"Umm... Would you be offended if I refused? I'd be very glad to spend the holidays with you, but I wouldn't be a good company for the others."

"You're impossible," Harry sighed. "All right, I'll spend several days at Weasleys and then I'll return to school to spend the rest of the holidays with you."

"Good compromise," Draco smiled.

* * *

><p>There were five days left before the holidays. Draco found out that he'd got ahead of Granger this semester and so he'd become the best student. It had already happened twice during their school years, but the last word was always by Hermione. This year it wasn't something Draco had really strived for, but it was pleasant news. McGonagall announced it in the Great Hall after breakfast. Granger had taken the second place to her dismay.<p>

"My congratulations, Draco. I haven't expected less from you," Snape said, walking past him. He was proud, even if he was outwardly restrained as usually.

"Thank you, Severus," the boy smiled, turning his face to him. He also didn't miss a smile he received from Harry.

Later in the corridor before the lesson, the time itself stopped for Harry and all the people just stopped existing for a few moments; it was just Draco and him. It seemed Draco had felt Harry's eyes on him; he turned his face to him and looked back with a small, surprised smile, wondering what made Harry look at him with such tenderness and silent adoration. He knew it wasn't just about his success in studying, but there was something else. Their eyes were locked. Draco couldn't help, but feel shy and it took him some willpower not to look away. He was still smiling and this smile filled Harry's chest with warmth and pleasant tingling. Neither of them moved closer to the other, but the distance seemed nonexistent just like everything else. It was then when Harry realized that he was hopelessly lost in the depths of the grey eyes.

When he was walking past Draco into the classroom, he took his hand and squeezed it lightly without letting anyone else notice.

"Congratulations. It was well-deserved," he smiled at the blond. Draco returned the smile, feeling a thrill of joy with all his being. The touch affected him deeply.

"Hurray for the nerds," Ron muttered with a smile, looking at the blond Slytherin and Hermione. She'd heard her boyfriend and scowled at him.

* * *

><p>There was no way Draco could deny that he was deeply in love with Harry. No, he couldn't deny it anymore. For the first time in his life he was in love and had no idea what to do about it, so it stunned him. <em>'We're just friends,'<em> he reminded himself with sadness. He was grateful for their friendship and was too afraid to lose it. The feeling made him nervous. At first it seemed unreal, but it spread its wings every time he was thinking of Harry, which was too often to be comfortable. How? Why?

He'd had nothing like this before. Not even close! All his 'relationships' had come to nothing more than a little (and not really pleasant) adventure with another boy when Draco was fifteen. The other Slytherin boy had been handsome and he'd been two years older. At first the older one had paid court to the beautiful blond. Draco had become curious and once had found himself in the lavatory in the boy's arms. They'd been snogging and his worshipper had begged to let him touch Draco. The older boy had given him a handjob, but he hadn't been allowed to do anything else. Draco's curiosity had been satisfied and there'd been nothing else he'd wanted from him. However, the older boy hadn't intended to give up. He'd become whiny and persistent, because the object of his obsession had paid him no attention at all. Finally Draco had pushed the pest away, but the older boy had been sending him message after message, had started to harass him. He'd lost his pride and self-respect because of his obsession, so he'd decided to take revenge. Realizing that everything else had been useless, he'd begun to threaten the blond, promising to tell everyone about what they'd had in the lavatory. Draco had had enough. He'd invited the older boy 'for a talk' and obliviated him, using Legilimency to find the one concrete memory. He hadn't been very skilful Legilimens back then, but his skills had been enough. The next time his stalker had tried to approach him, Draco had left him to the mercy of Crabbe and Goyle. They hadn't shown any, however, and knocked the nonsense out of his head. They'd obviously been very convincing, since their prince had been left alone after that. The stalker had had nothing to blackmail Draco anymore, so the blond had sighed in relief.

Pansy... Another farce. She'd kissed him twice, nearly strangling him with her arms, and both times he had shoved her away, just because he'd hated the way she'd been throwing herself at him. If he'd succumbed and slept with her, she would have certainly announced it publicly, making everyone believe that she'd been his fiancée, no less, and a future wife. Even the newspapers would have trumpeted it to the entire world - she would have taken care of it. She'd already been gossiping about many different things, concerning 'them'. Once, she had even tried to stuff him with love potion (in his ill-fated sixth year!). At first, to her delight, he'd thought that he'd needed her support in the very beginning of the school year. He'd simply tried to find some comfort, knowing that he'd been going to go through the frightening ordeal. But when he'd distanced himself from her, she'd decided to act. Thankfully, he'd noticed the strange smell, coming from his tea. He hadn't even yelled at her, he'd simply hexed her, looking at her searchingly and coldly. She'd been staying away from him since then.

What else? Love letters from the nameless and faceless people? It had been something to brag about and nothing more.

One could think that Draco was experienced in such things, since he was good-looking and had had some influence as a prince of the Slytherin and Malfoy's heir, and many people had liked him, but that was far from the truth. He'd always been too fastidious and distrustful to sleep around, and besides, he'd never wanted anyone to brag that they had been sleeping with _Draco_**_ Malfoy_**. The truth was that at first Draco had been too young, then he'd had those unpleasant experiences, and finally he'd been too scared and tense on his sixth year even to think about such things. So he had nothing behind him. And, of course, he'd had nothing even to compare with what he felt towards Harry. How odd it was to realize that it was none other than Harry, who made him feel this way. Odd, but only if he pondered over it.

"Draco, may I ask, why in the Merlin's name are you reading this nonsense?" Severus interrupted the thoughts of his godson, who was sitting in his study. Draco wasn't even paying attention to what he was reading, or trying to read anyway. In fact, he'd been looking at the same page for almost fifteen minutes.

"What's wrong about it?" he shrugged, looking at the cover, a little confused.

"The writer, if that illiterate idiot could be called that, is no better than Lockhart. You're reading his first book and you might want to know that he contradicts himself in his next one, and later in all the subsequent ones. All of his theories are nothing but a fraud."

"Oh..."

* * *

><p>Draco was sitting in the room of interrogations. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He felt blood in his mouth. Fighting Veritaserum was useless, but he was too nervous and scared. He was biting his tongue, the inside of his cheek and lip, making them bleed, in attempt to avoid giving the direct answers. He had already spent more time in this room than usually, and they intended to keep him there until he answered all their questions. They gave him more Veritaserum, since the previous dose had started to wear off. He was afraid that they were going to intervene and do something to separate him from Harry, to forbid him even to approach the Gryffindor. He didn't want them to know about his secret love and probe into his soul with their dirty hands. It was so personal, so pure... Two men were watching him carefully.<p>

"I repeat the question: what's happening between you and Harry Potter?"

"We're just friends..."

"But you said that something has changed. Exactly what? You've finally decided to take revenge, I believe?"

"No... I would never do that."

"Do you envy him for his good reputation and fame? All the roads lie open to him. I wouldn't say the same about you. Do you feel envy?"

"I don't."

"Are you trying to use him?"

"No."

"Then what are you hiding?"

"My feelings..."

"What feelings?"

"I... I love him..." The red-rimmed eyes closed for several moments. He was mortified.

"Um... I see. Does he know?"

"No."

"Have you been trying to seduce him?"

"No. I don't want him to know."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid of losing his friendship."

"Is there any way you would use love potions or any other way to persuade him to become your lover?"

"I've already told you, I wouldn't do anything like that."

"Why not? He would be very useful for you with his reputation if he was under your thumb. I would try anything if I had such feelings towards someone." A small laugh. A bad joke to try to 'release the tension' or just a stupid stinging remark?

"Doesn't speak well of you, I suppose," Draco replied quietly.

"And... Are you hoping he's going to share your... affection?" The voice was sceptical.

"No."

"You are dismissed. See you next time."

The door hit the wall when he stormed out humiliated and hurt. Severus was there as usually. He didn't ask anything, seeing the boy's frustration. It would be unfair, since he was still under the effect of the truth potion. The older man disapparated them from the Ministry and led Draco to his room, once they were in the castle. Several minutes later he came to him with a potion to heal Draco's mouth and with Calming Draught, and left the vials on the desk before leaving the room. It was time when he knew that his subdued godson was better left alone.


	7. 6 Of white roses

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

Battery, I promise it's not a creature fic, so no worries. Get well and thank you ))

Aquarinus, I'm not laughing at you, though I know it's quite a big exaggeration, but thank you; glad you've found what you were looking for :))

lostsouloftheunderworld, Draco is already too suppressed by the Ministry, so he knows that if he overreacts, the consequences would be catastrophic for him. But I know what you mean. Thank you! )))

kitty tokyo uzumaki, mel, sun, Rose, Sunday: thank you very much! Glad you like it! Here's the next one.

Please, review.

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><p><em><strong>6. Of white roses<strong>_

Harry was confused. He was literally beating his head about the way he could impress a person with such sophisticated tastes. He'd already purchased the presents for all of his friends, but for Draco he wanted something exceptional.

Draco had the same problem. Thankfully, his Gringotts accounts weren't frozen, but he could withdraw only a defined sum of money once in a month. However, given that he was at school and didn't need to pay for most of the things, he had enough to buy something worthy for both Harry and Severus, whose birthday was not far off, on top of everything. So, after taking Polyjuice to change his appearance, he went shopping.

Christmas, or Winter Solstice, as he was used to call it, because he was living in the Wizarding World all of his life, had passed quietly for Draco. He was waiting for Harry and got his letter with greetings. He sent his own back with Harry's Snowflake. They arranged to meet in the first of January to go to Hogsmeade.

* * *

><p>Both of them were beaming with joy when they finally met. They bought a lot of sweets in Honeydukes Sweetshop and went for a long walk through the snow-covered, festive village and its outskirts. Harry smiled and quietly cast a warming charm on his friend, seeing that he'd started to get cold. Draco closed his eyes at the flood of warmth embracing him. Harry's magic itself felt warm and comforting.<p>

It was already evening and they decided to go back to Hogwarts. They came to Draco's room and had some hot tea with the purchased sweets. Draco took a present for Harry from his desk.

"Merry Christmas, Winter Solstice and happy New Year, Harry," he said. The Gryffindor twiddled a small, round, silver box in his hands, and then opened it curiously. It appeared to be a compass. It was wholly made of silver with the beautifully engraved tracery. The dark-blue pointer was made of sodalite.

"It's beautiful," Harry said quietly.

"It's not just a compass. It can help you to find people you really care about. Just close your eyes, concentrate and think about the certain person, and it will point at their direction no matter how far they are. The closer you are to that person, the brighter the compass shines," Draco explained. Harry closed his eyes and thought about him with a smile on his face. When he opened his eyes the compass was pointing at the blond and shined brightly with the pure, bluish light, illuminating the room and making Draco's skin look nacreous. The grey eyes glowed like the most precious gemstones. Harry held his breath at the beauty that looked more heavenly than earthly.

"What a wonderful gift. Thank you," he said, very impressed.

"I haven't hoped to exceed your expectations," Draco smiled at the fascinated Gryffindor.

"But you did. Now it's my turn." Harry took something out of his pocket. "Close your eyes," he said. Draco complied. A moment later he felt that something was put on his neck. He shivered slightly and held his breath when Harry's fingers touched the back of his neck gently, fastening the small chain.

"Merry Christmas and Winter Solstice, Draco."

"May I open my eyes?"

"Yes, you may," Harry allowed. Draco opened his eyes and approached the mirror. The round black gemstone, set in white gold, was hanging on his neck. The golden rim was decorated with magical symbols. The chain was also made of white gold.

"It's... expensive. You shouldn't have to..." Draco was slightly taken aback.

"Look who's talking," Harry smiled, extending a hand with the silver compass. "And besides, I always thought that princes must be presented with worthy gifts."

"But I'm not a prince." The blond was now feeling warmth on his cheeks. Of course, it wasn't exactly the gift that made him feel this way, but the giver.

"Yes, you are," Harry insisted. "The tradesman asserted that this amulet protects the person that carries it from any nightmares and guards their dreams. Don't know if it's true, but I thought it would look good on you."

"Thank you. I like it very much."

"And this..." Harry gave him a framed picture. It was a moving picture of them, standing near the Forbidden Forest last autumn. It had been taken after the restaurant, the same day Harry had purchased his camera for that occasion. They looked very nice together, standing shoulder to shoulder. Draco's wand shed light at them and their surroundings.

"I nearly forgot about this photograph," Draco chuckled.

"So did I," Harry confessed.

"Thank you for everything."

"And you."

Before sleep Draco's fingers absently trifled with the amulet on his neck. It had been a wonderful day and he was replaying it in his mind, looking at the photograph on his bedside table.

* * *

><p>The next day Harry came to him in the morning, hoping that the blond wouldn't mind about the early visit. Draco had awakened just some minutes before he came. The blond was dressed in light silk pyjamas with a dressing gown over it: silk, black, long and unfastened.<p>

"Let's go for a walk," Harry invited.

"All right. Give me a moment," Draco replied sleepily.

Harry was waiting for him for about an hour while the blond was preening and dressing himself, but the brunet wasn't complaining. And then they were walking near the school and the Quidditch pitch, discussing many different things. The school lands looked so peaceful and empty, because the overwhelming majority of the students were away, spending their holidays with families or friends. Unconsciously Harry touched Draco's hand a couple of times, while they were talking, giving his friend a hard time as the blond tried his best to stay composed. Harry didn't know what those touches were doing to Draco, who started to wonder how he would live with his feelings without revealing them accidentally someday.

They spent the whole day together and in the evening they just roamed about the quiet corridors aimlessly. They only stopped in the dungeons.

"You should go out of your dungeons more often," Harry said.

"In your company," Draco added.

"I agree."

"Well..." Goodness, their good-byes had become even harder lately!

"Well..." Harry echoed with a sigh, feeling the same.

"Will you come tomorrow?" _'Why am I asking, knowing the answer perfectly well?'_

"Of course. I could show you the Gryffindor's tower. It seems I'm alone in there."

"Feeling lonely?" Draco smiled. It was one of those special smiles, as Harry noticed, without knowing if his eyes had failed him once again... or not.

"Not really. It's usually very noisy. Too noisy," he replied, trying to tame his heart that was beating suspiciously fast.

"So you do not regret leaving Weasleys?"

"I don't. Why should I regret spending time with you?"

"I'm glad," the blond purred with the deep, quiet voice, literally drowning in the green eyes.

"I thought it was obvious," Harry said quietly, noticing how close to each other they were now standing. He was focused on the beautiful features in front of him.

"Perhaps..." Draco whispered. Before he knew it, he moved closer and pressed his lips to Harry's. The kiss was very soft and almost chaste, but not quite. It didn't last long; just a few seconds. Realising _**what**_ he was doing, Draco opened his eyes and saw Harry's that were opened wide. It seemed only the spectacles prevented them from popping out of his head. The Slytherin's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He flinched and made a step back, shocked with himself and mortified. He cursed himself for yielding to the impulse like a stupid fool. _'I ruined everything... It's over,' _he thought sorrowfully, completely sure that Harry wouldn't want even to talk to him after that.

"S-sorry... I shouldn't have done it... I'm sorry," he stuttered nervously. Harry didn't respond, still shocked. Draco turned away and was about to run away in shame when two strong hands grasped his thin shoulders from behind. _'He's going to beat me up for what I've done...'_ It was the only thing the blond could think of. Quickly and suddenly he was turned around to face Harry, and pressed against the wall almost roughly. Their breaths shortened. The blond gasped. He wasn't given any time to recover; Harry kissed him, pushing his tongue into Draco's warm mouth rather aggressively. Draco's almost timid kiss had untied his hands and he could hardly control himself now. The kiss was greedy, insatiable, insane, deep, wet and persistent, leaving no way to retreat. It was so imperious that Draco complied entirely and closed his eyes. His heart sank; it was too good to be truth. His face was flushed just as Harry's. They were both trembling and moaned into each other's mouths. Without breaking the kiss, the brunet let go of Draco's shoulders, assured that the blond wouldn't attempt to run away anymore, allowing him to wrap his arms around him. They both were aroused to no end. Gods... Harry had always wanted to touch Draco's hair. It was his secret wish since he'd been thirteen or even twelve years old. And he wasn't disappointed. The platinum blond hair was incredibly soft and smooth. Both bodies were pressed closely to each other. Draco threw his head back, breaking the kiss, inhaled sharply and cried out loudly at the sensation of Harry's arousal pressed against his. He felt wetness of pre-come in his boxers. He was very close already, unable to control it.

"Into your room..." Harry whispered breathlessly into his ear and kissed it, sending another wave of shivers through the blonde's body that was aching badly for the release. They hardly stopped kissing and embracing each other on the way to the room. It seemed to be so far away and they moved too slowly and unsteadily, stopping from time to time. It was insanely hot, making it hard for them not only to walk, but to stand as well.

Draco was weak in his knees. He held Harry tight with both arms, and finally his legs gave out and he subsided down on the floor, pulling the Gryffindor onto himself as they were kissing. Harry found himself lying on Draco's trembling body, looking into the grey half-lidded eyes and at the sensual, parted lips, and he was now aware that they wouldn't make it to the room. Here and now, despite any common sense... The painfully aroused blond started to grind his hips against Harry's. He was panting and arching his back. He didn't care about lying on the cold, hard floor; he felt too hot even to think about it. The dark-haired youth could hardly breathe. He pressed his flushed cheek to Draco's and started to rock on him, making the pressure of their groins unbearable. It was too much. Draco's shaking sighs and gasps against his ear made it even harder to last and Harry was now moaning helplessly. With the soft, short cries the blond convulsed and came. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He groaned deeply, pressing himself harder to the body beneath his own, and came, too.

He was kissing the blonde's face while his breathing was calming.

"Come on... We have to get up. If your godfather finds us like this, he'll give me a life-time detention or simply kill me," Harry whispered with a small smile. He got up and helped Draco. They kissed again, this time gently. _'No... This can't be happening. Not to me. Anyone else... not me,'_ Draco thought, feeling dizzy and a little too shocked to think clearly. Speechless, they reached the Slytherin's room and entered. Password was the only thing that was said. Silence was awkward, but neither of them could find any words at all. Their eyes locked and they kissed again. Their hands felt more uninhibited now, so they were touching each other. Kisses became more lustful, renewing their arousal. Draco started to undress himself slowly, looking into Harry's eyes uncertainly, just to find out if he was doing the right thing. But the brunet took his hands in his, kissed them and slowly started to undress Draco himself, kissing his face and neck. The blond was shivering and moaning quietly. He gasped when his shirt was opened and Harry's hands touched his naked chest. Harry inclined his head and kissed the small and hard nipple. He made Draco sit down on the edge of the bed and kneeled, unbuttoning his trousers. He pulled them down and noticed the graceful move of the blonde's hips as Draco was helping him, leaning back on his elbows. The Gryffindor slowly kissed both hipbones that were visible above the waistband of short, black, silk boxers. He already started to undress himself.

The boxers and the unbuttoned white shirt were the only things that remained on Draco and Harry was only in his briefs now. They were lying in bed, holding each other in their arms. Two almost naked bodies were pressed together and they were panting and shivering at the touch. The blond slipped out of his shirt.

"...Want a surprise? I've never... Not even what we've just had in the corridor..." he whispered. Harry looked into his eyes and kissed his trembling lips gently. He wondered how far he would be allowed to go, but felt so desired at the same time. Slowly they explored each other's bodies with their hands...

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><p><strong>AN:** Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I've deleted this part of the story, because I suspect it's rather MA rated. If you are 18 or older, make sure you read the entire chapter, following the link, because the story is incomplete without it:

http (colon) (double slash) hp . adultfanfiction . net (slash) story . php ? no (equals sign) 600093977 (ampersand) chapter (equals sign) 7

If you're not 18 years old yet, don't do anything and just keep reading it here.

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><p>...Soon, after cleaning themselves, they started to fall asleep, embracing each other under the blanket and looking into each other's eyes silently. Draco found the long-awaited joy and contentment in his lover's arms and Harry, as well, felt that he was where he really belonged and he would have refused to be anywhere else. <em>'You're finally mine, Draco...'<em>

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><p>Draco flinched slightly as the first thing he felt in the morning were someone's warm arms around him, but the memory about what had happened last night made him smile, even though his lips hurt because of the insanity of Harry's kisses. The Gryffindor, still sleeping, pressed him even closer to himself and the blond didn't mind at all. He was watching the relaxed features of his sleeping love and the way his eyes were slightly moving under the eyelids. Draco smiled again as Harry quietly moaned his name, starting to awake out of sleep. The first thing the brunet saw in the morning was the smiling face of his lover.<p>

"Oh, hi..." he smiled back. His voice was slightly hoarse from the sleep. He touched Draco's soft hair fondly.

"Good morning," the blond murmured.

"How do you feel?"

"Awkward, but... fine. You?"

"I feel that I don't want to leave the bed any time soon," Harry confessed, caressing Draco's thigh with his hand.

"You could stay in bed while I'm taking a bath."

"Okay. I'll sleep some more. Come back sooner," the brunet smiled. Draco got out of the warm bed reluctantly and went to the bathroom, feeling Harry's eyes on his naked body.

When they both washed themselves and ate their breakfast right there, in the room, they were taken by the passion and found themselves in bed again, kissing and caressing each other...

"So? What do you think about _**us**_?" Draco asked. He was a little afraid to hear the answer. Harry was holding him, pressing his chest to the Slytherin's back.

"I like you, Draco. I like you very much. I want to be with you," the Gryffindor answered. The blond smiled.

"Good. If I may ask, when have you realized that you're interested in me more than just a friend?"

"...Don't remember, when exactly. I think I just denied it for a long time. You were a very charismatic rival. I thought I hated you, but... I don't know how to explain."

"Same here..."

"What of realization... I don't know. Perhaps, recently, since we started to get along."

"I really thought you hated me back then."

"What can I say... Who would dare to blame a beautiful white rose for having thorns?" Harry chuckled quietly.

"Mmm... So poetic. I didn't know you had it in you," Draco mumbled with a smile. He turned to face his lover and they kissed. "And... You're incredibly lucky, because I like you too, Harry," he teased. But in his thoughts was: _'I love you...'_

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><p>Until the end of the holidays Harry never showed himself in the dorms of his house (he once went there just to take his belongings), spending nights in Draco's room. They were walking near the school almost every day, sometimes ate in almost empty Great Hall, mostly having their meals in the room, duelled with each other once in the Room of Requirement (needless to say that the duel ended on the floor, and the Room of Requirement changed itself into the luxury bedroom).<p>

The first day of school after the holidays was long and hard. It was endless! Harry couldn't concentrate on his study, spending his day, looking back so often that his neck began to hurt. The object of his attention looked back at him and smiled at him every time, but careful enough, not allowing anyone else to see his happy face. It was only for Harry. The Gryffindor was restless and couldn't wait for the end of their lessons to go to the dungeons as soon as possible, to get in the bed with his lover to worship him and then to possess him, to make him moan and cry in pleasure, writhing under Harry's body. This day the Gryffindors had common lessons with the Slytherins, and that fact, of course, didn't make it easier for both of them. Harry was tormented with longing and anticipation. He kept harassing Draco with his eyes and undressed him with his gaze shamelessly, making the blond blush slightly and fan himself nervously as he could assume what was happening in the Gryffindor's head. The blond desperately tried to ignore the sweet tension in his nether regions, but couldn't concentrate on his lessons either. To make it even worse for Harry, in the middle of the lesson Draco had to smile at him suggestively and pucker his lips as if he wanted a kiss (well, he actually did), knowing full well what it would do to Harry. The Gryffindor folded his arms on his chest and smiled at Draco wryly, with reproach, thinking of what he would do to his playful lover for teasing and driving him crazy.

The moment he entered Draco's room after lessons, he was happily greeted with kisses and embrace. Draco was pressed against the wall. The back of his head rested against the cool stone and he was trapped between the wall and Harry's body and between Harry's arms as the brunet's hands were pressed to the wall on each side of Draco's body. The Slytherin's hands were lowered; his palms were pressed to the wall, as well. He was kissed and he closed his eyes, completely besotted. The kisses were slow, though sensual. Harry broke them time after time, but just for some moments, only to look at the relaxed and beautiful face of his lover. They were deeply absorbed in each other. Draco's eyes were closed, his pale eyelashes trembled faintly. Every time the kissing stopped, the blond was biting his lower lip slightly or touching it with his tongue, but eagerly parted his lips as Harry's pressed again. The brunet deepened the kiss and his tongue toyed with Draco's. They finally embraced each other tenderly, looking into each other's eyes.

"Harry, take me..." the blond whispered.

"How can I refuse?" Harry murmured with a smile...

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><p>..."I need a bath. Would you like to join?" the blond offered with the flirty smile on his face, heading to the bathroom after magically removing the evidence of his pleasure off the wall and floor. Harry slapped his bottom almost softly and planted a gentle kiss on the said bottom right away.<p>

"I'm going to torment your bum severely for what you put me through today. Tease!" he frowned.

"Haven't I already expiated?" Draco chuckled.

"No. Not yet."

"You're so cruel. By the way, your shameless stares were making me feel completely naked all day long, so don't lay all the blame on me."

They were sitting in the bath with the fragrant foam. It wasn't very big, but there was enough space for both of them. The hot water was flowing out of the mouth of the stone snake, situated near the bath, but the statue wasn't enchanted to move or speak. At first they were fooling around, splashing each other with water, but then they used the opportunity to caress each other with soapy hands, sliding them over each other's aroused bodies or just rubbing against each other.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bath and everything stopped existing, except for the closeness of his lover.

And later, in bed, he basked in the captivity of Draco's arms and legs that were twined around his body and held him tight. The pleasure was coursing throughout him as powerful waves of arousal and he heard moans: his own and Draco's, drowning in the feverish look of the grey eyes. The blond was delirious with joy; his head was tossing from side to side, when he was brought over the edge...

In haste they did their homework. Thankfully, there wasn't much to do. Draco was already asleep after his potion when Harry finished. He kissed Draco's cheek before leaving. It was already midnight and he had to sneak into his dorms without being caught. In high spirits he ascended the Gryffindor tower. He tried his best to vanish a blissful smile from his face, but failed. The brunet was very tired and there was nothing he wanted more than to fall into a deep sleep. He thought, however, that he would have felt much more comfortable if he sneaked under the dark-green quilt, pressed his abdomen against the warm, smooth and pale bottom, wrapped one arm around the lithe body and buried his face into the blond hair. Yes, that would have been perfect.

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><p>In the morning Draco opened his eyes and smiled when he saw a white rose on his pillow. Harry had probably transfigured it from something else. The blond was imbued with happiness at the simple, romantic gesture, even if Harry had done enough last night to make it a little uncomfortable for Draco to sit. He couldn't remember when he was happier than during this week.<p> 


	8. 7 Free fall

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

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><p><em><strong>7. Free fall<strong>_

There probably weren't many things for him to thank his destiny for, but he was thankful that he hadn't become a murderer, regardless of the circumstances and in spite of Lucius' expectations. But, on the other hand, he'd let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. All the victims were lying heavy on his conscience, even if indirectly, even if he'd had no choice. Draco failed to analyze himself. His sixth year had been a torture; he'd made a lot of tragic mistakes. They were irretrievable, but he wanted some atonement, so he could go on.

He'd found Ronald Weasley in the library. It seemed the redhead had become a frequent visitor there, to everyone's surprise. He was looking for some book when Draco approached him.

"Weasley, may I have a word with you?" the Slytherin asked after making sure that there was no one else around to overhear them.

"Okay," the redhead nodded and prepared to listen. Inwardly it was very hard for Draco to start talking straight away. He leaned his back against the bookshelf in front of Ron, and exhaled, collecting himself.

"I want to apologize for what happened in our sixth year. I nearly killed you unpremeditatedly. This is not an excuse though; I don't have any. You were poisoned, and it was my fault. I fully realize that it means nothing to you, but I want you to know that I'm sorry," he admitted. He sounded formally and confidently, but sincerely; and that was how he'd wanted it to be, even if he was secretly shaking in his shoes.

"I..." Ron was perplexed and didn't know what to say. Before he found any words to answer, Draco turned to leave and walked away. The Slytherin didn't want to see a burst of indignation or even to hear any words of forgiveness, if that was in Ron's mind. He'd done what he had had to do to unburden his soul and to make Weasley know that he regretted. He wasn't sorry for all the verbal insults that had been mutual; however, he'd carried a heavy load of guilt for the incident, which had nearly entailed Weasley's death. That was the thing to apologize for, even if he wasn't sure that the apology was enough.

Katie Bell was the next person to ask for forgiveness, since she'd nearly died because of his actions, too, but she'd already graduated from school, so he could only write a letter with his sincere apologies. It was Friday and he didn't have to think about the homework, so he took his time to compose a worthy content.

Harry came to him after supper and they found themselves in bed just some moments later.

"Do you feel any better?" Harry asked as they were lying in each other's arms.

"Mmh?" Draco murmured lazily, nuzzling into his neck.

"Ron told me about your apology. I think he was impressed. He wonders if maybe you tried to befriend with him, too, and he was too confused."

"No. It was an apology, not an offer of friendship. And it wasn't some beau geste. I was rather... sceptical about the whole idea, but I just had to do it without waiting anything in return. I had to... It was something I wanted to do since that incident. I just couldn't find heart to do it earlier and, of course, I couldn't do it in our sixth year." Draco sat up on the edge of the bed, turning away from Harry.

"I see... And Katie Bell too?" the brunet asked, caressing Draco's naked back with his fingertips.

"Yes..."

"So? Do you feel any better now that you've done it?"

"I don't know..."

"But you should feel better. I think it was a brave thing to do. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

"Indeed, it wasn't," Draco sighed.

"Come here." Harry spread his arms and Draco found himself in the welcoming embrace again. They kissed each other tenderly.

"So... Would you like to try to get along with Ron and Hermione?" the Gryffindor asked.

"No, I don't think so," Draco shook his head.

"But why? I'm sure you could find something in common. Ron was impressed by your chess games, he told me that he was, and he doesn't really feel bad about you and me as friends. Hermione... Well, it's a little more complicated with her, but she respects you for your intelligence. If you just talked to each other..."

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I don't think it would work. I'm quite civil to them and that's all I can offer for now. I'm just... I'm not ready."

"All right," Harry smiled slightly.

"Are you angry with me?" Draco asked, looking into his eyes.

"Not at all," Harry shook his head sincerely.

"It's Friday. Are you staying for the night?" Somehow, the blond was a little afraid that the answer would be 'no' after what they'd just discussed.

"Of course," Harry smiled instead.

"Good..."

After another passionate lovemaking they decided that it was time to sleep. Draco took his potion, put out the light and closed the curtains around the bed.

"Draco, tell me the truth, are you addicted?" Harry asked carefully when they snuggled up together.

"No, nothing like that. Please, just let it go." _'Because I don't want to have another nightmare, I don't want to wake you up with my scream, and there's a chance that I'll wet myself,'_ _he thought with sadness._

"Good night," Harry whispered.

"Good night," Draco echoed and kissed his lover's lips.

Harry woke up early in the morning. He opened the bed curtains. The room was beautifully illuminated by the magical window. Draco was sleeping quietly with his nose buried in a pillow and the brunet smiled at him. He got up and stretched himself.

"Don't go..." the blond moaned at the loss. He was still half-asleep.

"I have to go, baby... Some people asked me to train them in the Duelling Club, and I promised to do it today," Harry explained. Draco's reply was a whine of displeasure.

"Why don't you ask one of your friends to do it for you? Surely, they do not have any beautiful, naked, kissable and sleepy blonds in their beds," he said sleepily.

"Draco..." Harry smiled cheerfully. "You don't know what you're doing to me... I promise I'll be back soon, and earn my beautiful, naked, kissable and sleepy blonde's forgiveness."

"He'll be sleeping then. He won't appreciate your efforts, and he doesn't like to be awakened," Draco mumbled without opening his eyes.

"Then I'll have to find a way to wake him up very gently with my lips and hands," Harry said, already with some clothes on. He went to the bathroom and washed himself quickly.

"You could try it now," Draco purred drowsily when the brunet returned. His eyes were still closed.

"Try what?"

"Wake me up very gently... Touch me... Put your hands under the blanket and touch me all over," the blond almost whispered. The pale-pink lips were wordlessly begging for a kiss.

"Sorry. But I really have to go," Harry sighed with regret, trying his best to resist temptation, feeling dizzy and warm. "Now look what you've done to me," he sighed again, looking down. Draco half-opened his sleepy eyes and saw an impressive bulge on Harry's trousers.

"Serves you well," he frowned and closed his eyes again, turning away and making himself more comfortable in bed where he'd been left alone unceremoniously.

"It's very early. Sleep some more. I'll be back in two hours," Harry promised and sealed the promise with a kiss to assure his capricious lover. He tried to kiss the pout away and almost succeeded.

An hour and a half had not yet passed when Draco felt the way the quilt cover was lifted behind him with the quiet rustle and the weight of another body settled in the bed. He smiled through his sleep. The naked body pressed closer to him.

"You're cold..." the blond murmured.

"Will you warm me?" Harry smiled.

"You promised to wake me up in a very special way... But since I'm already awaken..." Draco turned to him and wrapped his arms around the brunet. His leg embraced the strong thighs. They kissed.

"How was your duelling?" the Slytherin asked.

"I don't know," Harry smiled.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Draco chuckled.

"I was thinking about you all the time," the Gryffindor said softly. They kissed again.

"I want you..." the blond whispered.

"Then take me."

The room filled with sighs, moans and incoherent whispers. After a long foreplay, Harry was carefully entered, lying on his side, and Draco was behind him, holding him with both arms and kissing the back of his neck. It was slow and tender lovemaking. Both boys were melting in each other.

They only got out of the bed when Harry had to leave again, this time for the Quidditch practice.

"Could you, please, do without your wild escapades this time? I need you whole," Draco smiled and pressed his lips to Harry's.

"I promise, baby," the Gryffindor replied, very happy that his lover cared about him so much. They kissed again and the tongues were curling around each other. Harry was actually showered with kisses before he could leave. He was literally walking on air.

In the evening they met in the corridor of the dungeons. Draco was returning from Severus' rooms and Harry was going to Draco's. The Slytherin literally jumped into Harry's arms. He was brimming over with joy, looking into the green eyes he'd been missing all day. The Gryffindor more than appreciated such warm welcome and kissed back fervently, nearly devouring the blonde's mouth. Both of them felt the irresistible longing. Harry made Draco moan and whimper by licking and sucking his protruded tongue like a sugar candy. When they could take it no more, Harry lifted him up, holding him under his thighs. Legs and arms wrapped around him quickly.

"Gods... Fide, sed... Aaah... Cui fidas, vide..." Draco gasped and moaned the password feverishly with his head thrown back, while Harry was kissing his neck senseless. The wizard on the portrait had already got used to the infatuated youths. He was only slightly irritated now that they were displaying their passion right in front of him. However, it was much more chaste and loving than the satanic orgies that he'd witnessed (or had even taken part in them gladly) during some dark rituals when he'd been alive and pursued by the infuriated Inquisition in the Muggle World, not to mention that he'd been a frequenter of the brothels. So it wasn't his place to be preconceived. He opened the room and Harry carried his lover inside.

Neither of them noticed the retreating shadow in the semidarkness of the dungeons. Its owner had seen enough without being too close to the kissing and embracing couple...

The next morning Draco received a letter from Ron:

_'Hi, Malfoy,_

_You haven't given me a chance to say that I don't bear grudges on you. What you said was just unexpected and I just couldn't find the right words to answer. Or maybe it was for the best, because you gave me time to think it over. I know your story and I know you're not a murderer. That's enough for me. I survived. We both survived the war and that's what important I think. _

_Of course, you were a terrible bully, but I don't really like to go into the past. Harry thinks highly of you and I have no reason to distrust his opinion. _

_If you'll ever want to play chess with me again, you're more than welcome to be my opponent. _

_Sincerely,_

_Weasel.'_

Draco chuckled. He hadn't been waiting for any forgiveness, but this wasn't bad at all.

"What is it, babe?" Harry mumbled sleepily, digging himself out of the blankets and pillows.

"A letter from your friend, Weasley."

"Ah, yes. He told me he was going to write you."

"If he only knew about us, the content would have been different," Draco smiled.

"That would be my problem to work it out, so don't worry. What about Katie?"

"She hasn't written back and, quite frankly, I don't expect her to," Draco confessed. "I'm not sure she's even read my letter. She must have decided that it was cursed. But... Never mind. Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Come here so I could eat you," Harry grinned. Draco smiled and complied, returning into bed.

The next week was hard and they studied a lot, but they did their homework together every evening, as usually, and, of course, they always found the time to make love. That was the reason they didn't have enough sleep. Almost every night Harry sneaked into the Gryffindor tower under his invisibility cloak long after the beginning of the curfew and fell into a deep sleep once he reached his bed. Unfortunately for both of them, he couldn't stay in Draco's room on weekdays, since he wanted to avoid the unwanted and annoying questions of his housemates. He didn't want them to become too nosy. Both youths were waiting for Friday to spend more time together and sleep in each other's arms.

Harry came into his room only late in the evening. He sat down tiredly and took a cup of tea.

"What took you so long? I missed you," the blond said sulkily.

"I missed you too, Draco. I thought you knew that your godfather gave me a detention for today," Harry sighed.

"Oh, right. Your exploded cauldron nearly killed half of the people in the classroom, because you were too busy staring at me," Draco chuckled.

"Very funny," Harry smiled.

"I thought he confined himself by taking points."

"I'm not that lucky. I can't imagine how anyone can get along with such a snarky person," Harry sighed again. Well, of course, he was very grateful for everything the man had done for him, but it hadn't made Snape treat him any better, even if he was much calmer than before and something was different. Something was definitely different. It seemed the man ignored him unless Harry did something truly remarkable in the worst sense of word, making the man scowl at him or even say something sarcastic. Actually, sometimes Harry felt that the man was avoiding him or simply had struck Harry out of his life completely, probably deciding that he'd done enough and didn't have to pay an excessive attention to the Gryffindor, or any attention at all. Even today Harry had only found a cold note on the desk, which he usually occupied in the classroom. The note had been addressed to him and it had been just a list of the tasks to do during the time of detention. Somehow it felt confusing.

"I can. I love the man dearly," the blond smiled, distracting Harry from his thoughts.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Harry smirked, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't be silly. It's just... Severus has done so much for me. If we could choose our fathers, undoubtedly, I would have chosen him, without thinking twice," Draco confessed. He noticed Harry's studying look. "What?"

"Nothing. I've just tried to imagine you with black hair and black eyes," the Gryffindor replied.

"And?"

"I like you the way you are. Anyway, I wonder if you've ever told him what you've just told me."

"No. But I don't have to, because he knows," the blond shrugged.

"I understand how you feel. As you know, Sirius was very close to me, but I didn't know him for enough time. We had no chance. But he loved me very much," Harry sighed.

"Yes, you've told me you wanted to live with him instead of those dim-witted muggles."

"Right. I wanted to have a real family so much. Unfortunately, that was only an unrealizable dream."

"I'm so sorry," Draco said and put a comforting hand on Harry's.

"Kiss me," the brunet whispered. The Slytherin came closer and their mouths joined in a kiss...

* * *

><p>If you're 18 or older, follow the link below.<p>

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><p>...Soon Harry was fast asleep. Draco was looking at him for some time, then took his potion, took off the brunet's spectacles and fell asleep too.<p>

The Gryffindor woke up with the feeling of warmth and comfort. He smiled drowsily, seeing sleeping Draco, lying on him. The blond head was resting on his shoulder and the beautiful face was turned to him. Harry's arm was wrapped around the blonde's lean waist. Draco's hand was resting near the brunet's shoulder and his fingers were holding the spectacles by their side. Harry carefully took them out of the weak grip of the graceful fingers, and put them on to have a better view of his blond and himself, nicely cuddled together.

Unfortunately for them, the next night they had to spend away from each other. Someone had informed the headmistress that Harry hadn't spent some nights in his dorms. Thankfully, Harry had found out about it in time, so he wouldn't be caught in the act, however, he hadn't found out who had reported on him. That was just ridiculous! Some students often spent their nights in the Room of Requirement, or gods know where else, with their girlfriends or boyfriends, like Ron and Hermione, for example; but no one had betrayed their housemates like this before. Harry was angry and frustrated. He promised his upset lover to come to him in the morning.

Harry woke up early, took a shower and went to Draco. The first thing he saw was an empty vial on the nightstand. He frowned and then sighed sadly. Draco was heavily sedated by his potion. Harry undressed and lay down beside his lover under the blanket. He still felt a little tired, but he couldn't fall asleep. Instead, he watched peacefully sleeping Draco. He kissed his ear, then inhaled the intoxicating and fresh smell of the blond silken hair, slightly rumpling it with his nose and lips. Draco winced slightly. Perhaps, he could feel something through his sleep. It was already morning, so the potion had probably started to wear off. Smiling, Harry brushed his lover's lips with his fingers and kissed his cheek and temple gently. He snaked his hand down Draco's spine and cupped his warm bottom. It was arousing...

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><p>...Almost the entire day they were spending in bed: talking, kissing and making love. They even ate in bed, thinking that they deserved it, because their night had been ruined.<p>

The next week didn't differ from the previous and everything was perfect between them. However, in the end of the week something had changed. Draco noticed that Harry had become very thoughtful. The blond started to suspect that his love was losing interest in him. He was utterly concerned about it, but he was afraid to ask bluntly, so he only asked if something was wrong or if he'd done something wrong. Harry assured him, that everything was all right and felt guilty when he was looking into the sad grey eyes. He didn't really see any problem. But Draco felt restless. He was scared and hurt at the very thought of losing Harry. The other week was even worse, - Harry stopped coming to him every day. He explained that he was just tired and didn't feel well. The Slytherin wasn't convinced, but he didn't want to argue. He probably was too paranoid and there really was nothing to worry about.


	9. 8 Salty streams

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

**Thanks a lot for all your reviews. I read and enjoy them.**

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><p><em><strong>8. Salty streams<strong>_

The Room of Requirement was a luxury bedroom. Two bodies were in the heat of the passion between the silk sheets. Harry was enjoying it greatly; the pleasure was mind-blowing. The only thing that bothered him somewhere deep inside was the fact that, instead of the blond hair, he was touching red and longer hair, instead of grey eyes he was looking into darker blue; the skin was slightly tanned and two round breasts were pressed by his body. His subconsciousness was screaming that something was wrong, but it felt right. He knew it was right. She was his fate for a long time already, and he had to stop ignoring it at last.

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><p>He had to end everything with Draco; it was too cruel to keep lying to him. Could they possibly stay friends after a month of being lovers? Not likely... How everything could change so much in such a short period of time was beyond his understanding, but he had to stop hurting two people that didn't deserve it. It was simply unfair and he was surprised with himself. He had never thought he was capable of doing such terrible things. <em>'God... How could I screw up like this?'<em>

When he entered Draco's room after almost ten minutes of staying in front of the portrait, the blond almost ran to him to hold him. He smiled, but the smile disappeared when he felt how strained Harry's body was. And then his love just took his hands and freed himself from the embrace.

"Draco, no. We need to talk," Harry said quietly. Draco's mouth became dry, he swallowed. His heart was beating fast. The brunet was feeling the same. They sat down.

"I can't lie anymore. Something happened yesterday and... You need to know... I was with Ginny," Harry said and closed his eyes. His breathing was shaking. Draco closed his eyes as well, vividly feeling the way his heart was shattering into pieces.

"So..." That was all he could answer. His voice was hoarse. Harry wasn't sure anymore that he could leave him like this. He was confused and he simply didn't know what to do. It seemed they had shared such a short time together, just a month or so, as lovers, but they'd shared so much... Was it possible to leave it all behind?

"I'm so sorry. Draco, I... Look... I've got entangled. I need some time," Harry whispered.

"Right... You need time to decide who you like to fuck more. No fucking way!" Draco finally blazed up, sobbing violently. He couldn't believe it was happening. His voice was rising to a shout and breaking. "What is it, Potter, are you... going to fuck both of us? Why don't we make a schedule then?"

"Hear me out..." Harry tried his best to find the right words, but he couldn't. How could he explain something he couldn't understand himself?

"No! Don't even try to explain it... You're a liar! The whole week I was asking you if something... was wrong, and you lied to me! You were fucking me, thinking about her!"

"No! It's not like that... Draco..."

"Lying bastard... If you can't make a choice, I'll help you... Go to her! I despise you! Get out!" he screeched brokenly.

Harry was taken aback by Draco's hateful and desperate hissing, growling and screaming, the words stung painfully, but he knew, he deserved even worse. The most hurtful thing was seeing Draco's tears and knowing that he was the one who hurt Draco so bad. The heartbreaking cries made Harry want to hold him tight and soothe him, but he knew it wouldn't be wise to approach him now or ever again. All of it was like a bad dream for both of them. They wanted to wake up... Harry buried his face into his hands, choking with tears. _'What the hell am I doing?..'_

Draco whimpered and wiped his tears away. But then he inhaled deeply, holding back his newly forming tears, and became cold and inapproachable. He turned away to speak without looking at the one he desperately loved, ignoring the aching pressure inside of his chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. Harry felt the wave of cold.

"We had fun, but it's over. You don't owe me anything," _'Go... Let me keep, at least, a grain of sanity!', _"That's fine. I should have been realistic; you've always preferred Weasleys to me, so there's nothing new about it. I should have known," _'I love you... I love you so much! How could you, Harry? Gods! How could you?'_ "What happened between two of us didn't mean anything, at any rate. I was probably just another conquest to you, since, I believe, you've always been hers," _'Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me like this,' _"Perhaps, I've lost everything and I'm just nobody, but surprisingly I still have some pride. I don't need any leftovers," _'Just go before I scream and beg you on my knees not to leave me. I can't stand it. _**_GO_**_!' _"Would you be so kind as to get the hell out of my room this instant?"

Harry stood up. All he really wanted was to comfort the blond, to take his pain away. His hand reached out to Draco's shaking body.

"Don't you dare!" the blond growled dangerously and flinched without turning his face to him. Harry's trembling hand stopped halfway and retreated.

"I'm sorry..." the brunet sighed.

"Forget the way down here," Draco almost whispered as his voice was almost lost.

Harry left. His heart was broken by the sight of pain and betrayal he'd seen in the grey eyes he adored so much. He hated himself so much for this. He'd betrayed him... Draco's cold words had been nothing but a lie, self-defence, mask; he knew it. The feeling of loss was overwhelming. His head hurt terribly and he felt tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. _'It is for the best,'_ he tried to convince himself. He pressed his forehead against the cold wall and looked at the entrance of Draco's room one last time before heading to his dorms. The ground was slipping from under his feet.

Draco wailed for hours, grasping at his hair and scratching his face. Shaking all over, he slipped down the wall and rolled himself into a ball on the floor. His nervous breakdown made his chest hurt terribly. In addition, his head was splitting and it felt like it was stuffed up, but was throbbing with painful realisation. He couldn't think anymore. Soon the migraine became unbearable; blinding, deafening. Draco couldn't stand the light, so his room was completely dark. He took his Deep Sleep potion, because he couldn't stand the pain anymore...

* * *

><p>He woke up early in the morning, feeling very sick. After some time of lying in bed he could think again and realised what had happened last evening. Harry was lost to him...<p>

He blamed himself for not trying to befriend with Harry's best friends. Could it disappoint Harry so much that he'd decided to find someone else, closer to their midst? He realized that the thought was ridiculous; he just tried to find the reason of what had happened and why their happiness had ended this way. Or Harry hadn't been happy with him, the feelings were unshared, and Draco had been so blind that he hadn't seen the obvious? He'd just been deep in the illusion of happiness... and blind. How could he ever trust him with all his heart? It appeared that even the look of Harry's pure eyes had been just a deception all the time. _'No, it couldn't be... He seemed so happy.'_ He still couldn't believe it was over and it was too much to bear.

Perhaps, what Harry had done was logical. It wasn't just about his friends. He had many reasons, in fact. Why would he need a person, who was so ill that could hardly exist without his potions? Why would he need someone with such past as Draco's? The world would never accept their relationship. Harry Potter with another boy, and Malfoy in addition. What a scandal... No wonder, Harry wanted to avoid it, even if he'd told many times that he didn't care what people thought of him. Perhaps, Harry had finally realized it and decided to break up. The circumstances were cruel and Draco's feelings had no right to exist in such reality. And the other reason was that Weasley, of course. She was a better choice, since Harry loved the whole family, so it was quite understandable that he wanted to become related with them. Even if Harry had liked Draco, had wanted him, they'd been doomed to failure from the start. He'd just become the unnecessary person in Harry's life, and had to stay away. It was over... And it hurt terribly, even if Harry had probably intended to do it less painful for Draco.

Draco sighed in dismay and another tear escaped his sore eye.

* * *

><p>It was unbearable to see Harry during their lessons or in the Great Hall, but Draco never looked at him anymore, avoiding being close to him. It was unbearable to fall asleep in bed where they had slept in each other's arms, had made love to each other (or it was only Draco, who'd made love, and Harry had only fucked). He retired into his shell again, even more than in the beginning of the school year.<p>

Reduced to a nervous wreck, he cried himself sick every single night until his Deep Sleep potion started to take effect, and he was falling into complete oblivion and void where he couldn't feel he even existed at all. Every night it was the same. And the days were no easier, since he was feeling that he was falling apart both physically and emotionally.

Later he started to force himself to study, and after lessons and doing his homework, he was overdosing his Deep Sleep potion to fall asleep in several minutes after taking it. Getting up in the morning was a heroic deed and his days off had become the hardest time for him. Studying was taking his mind away, not to let him think about the loss of Harry. He forbade himself to think about it while he was reading, writing or doing some practical tasks. Thankfully, Severus always had something to keep Draco busy, since the boy wasn't just his student, but also he was his apprentice that was ahead of most students in Potions. Draco just asked him to give him something to do and Severus never disappointed him, giving him more and more difficult and challenging tasks. The blond just hoped that his godfather had no idea about the reason of such zeal.

When the thoughts of Harry were so obsessive that he couldn't ignore them, he filled the emptiness of his soul with the thoughts like: _'It couldn't be any other way. It had to happen sooner or later. He will never come back and there's nothing I can do about it. I was going the straight road to disaster with my feelings. How could I possibly hope that it was something long-lasting or even eternal? This is ridiculous. He would have left me in the end of the school year anyway. It was just a liaison. It was nothing. I have to move on and stop being a fool.'_ It was his mantra just to go on, but it often ended up with tears.

More than two-week delay of his interrogation was very fortunate for him. He could hardly imagine how he would have gone through this only three days after his break up with Harry. And when he was summoned this time, he'd already reconciled himself to the situation (more or less). Without any protests, he answered all the questions of his interrogators just to make it end as soon as possible, so they now knew that he'd had 'an amourette' with Harry Potter, but had been left 'for a better match', and the person under their surveillance wouldn't cause any troubles to the Saviour. Why would they blame the great Harry Potter for 'having some fun' with another boy? It wasn't their place to judge his heroic whims, so they were quite calm when they'd found out about it, and refrained from making comments. He was despondent, but relaxed and composed when he left the room this time.

* * *

><p>When he was finally in his own room, he decided to take a walk in the magical garden. To his shock Harry was there. The brunet smiled at him and approached him, making Draco step back.<p>

"Draco... I'm so glad to see you," Harry smiled softly.

"What... are you doing here? I've changed the password... How did you get in here?" Draco growled.

"But I'm here for you."

"Get out... Are you mocking me?" The blond really started to get nervous, especially when Harry tried to take his hand in his. Draco jerked away. "No, don't touch me!"

"But... Baby..." Harry whispered, looking confused.

"Get out..."

"You're tired and upset. What happened?"

"Gods... Do you enjoy hurting me? Can't stop?" Draco's eyes filled with tears. Was Harry _**this**_ cruel to mock him this way? Was he there to deliver some kind of a coup de grace? Why? What had Draco done to deserve _**this**_?

"What are you talking about?" the brunet asked very concerned. He looked so sincere...

"What do you think I'm talking about? You fucked Weasley and left me, so you could be together! How can you act like nothing happened? Leave me alone... Please... Please, Harry, leave..."

"Oh, God, Draco... No... I would never do anything like that. I would never hurt you. You mean so much to me."

"Liar..." the blond whispered, trying his best to hold back his tears. But then he realised something... "Wait... You're not Harry... Who are you?" Now he was a little scared.

"I am Harry. Don't cry, please. Don't you know how much it hurts me to see you crying?" he soothed, "I know who can make you smile." He pointed at the bench. The blond woman was sitting there. Draco came closer. Now he was almost sure that he was going insane.

"M-mother..." he whispered. He couldn't hold back his tears anymore and they ran down his face freely. She turned her face to him.

"Come here and tell me, who's made my boy so sad. Come on..." she told him with kindness in her voice. He complied and sat down next to her. He knew it for sure, - he was crazy. He rolled himself into a ball on the bench and his head was resting on Narcissa's lap. His tears were leaving small wet spots on her skirt. His mother was stroking his hair soothingly. It hadn't been often when she'd been very lavish with the emotional gestures, but he still remembered her loving touches and he now was enjoying it. Although, he knew it wasn't real, even if he could smell his mother's perfume, recognized her touches, voice and demeanour. Even if that was some kind of a trap, he didn't care. Narcissa took a delicate handkerchief out of the pocket of her beautiful white blouse and wiped her son's tears away gently.

"What a wonderful weather, isn't it?" she smiled, closing her eyes at the bright sunshine.

"It's always warm here... Even when it's rainy," he whispered.

"It's good to be here with you," Harry (or whoever it was) said. He was sitting on the ground in front of the bench.

"But you're not real..." Draco sighed.

"We're here for you, darling," Narcissa said softly.

"Yes... You would have been very upset if you knew that your son has lost his mind."

"It's not true, Draco. You're going through many hardships, but you're definitely sane," his mother assured. He started to relax at the sound of her voice. It sounded like a source of warmth and comfort to him.

Perhaps, she was right... She wasn't his sick hallucination or some very realistic vision, but it wasn't her soul and it weren't her memories (unlike the portraits, for example, that contained memories of people that were no longer among the living). No... That were _**his**_ memories about both of them, his mother and Harry, the things that his heart desired. It was all about this place. The same was with Albine. He'd thought that the garden needed more... fauna, and some time later the white cat had appeared. And now there were people, he needed so much, but they were no longer a part of his real life. The illusion was just adapting to the desperate needs of a person, imitating the required things or even people. With Harry it was probably even easier, because the place had seen him and had had a chance to know him better. They were just a part of the illusion, a fake...

This place could become his outlet, he could find the contentment with the illusions of the people he loved, but, at the same time, it was a cemetery of his hopes, something to rub salt into his wounds, - both fresh and old.

"Mother... Even if I'm still sane, I must destroy this place to keep my sanity. It has gone too far... I can't take it anymore," he said quietly.

"Do you want to destroy this beautiful garden?" Narcissa asked softly.

"Yes..."

"Well... I'm sure you have a very good reason," she said, passing her hand through his hair again. He melted at her touch, enjoying it to the very roots of his being.

"Why? You don't like me anymore, do you?" Harry sighed with sadness.

"I can't let you be here," Draco replied.

"Then... We'll just find another place to be together, you and I," the brunet smiled. Draco's heart responded with nagging pain at this. Ignoring the illusion of Harry, the blond just got up, kissed Narcissa's forehead and forced himself to return to his room. He closed the window. His mother and Harry were still looking at him, smiling at him gently, with love; he saw it through the coloured glass and closed his eyes. It was such a temptation, a chance to be happy, but... no. He moved all the furniture away from the window, took his stand near the opposite wall and pointed his wand at the stained glass.

"Expulso..." He wasn't sure, it would work, but it did. The deafening sound of explosion made him flinch and cover his head. Fortunately, nothing, except for the window, was damaged. The shards were scattered about the room, but soon they became just a dust that disappeared several moments later. The only thing, that left, was soot on the wall where the magical window had used to be. Draco tore down the smouldering curtains and moved one of the bookcases to cover that part of the wall. He sighed. The room didn't look so cosy without the window, but he knew, he'd done the right thing. He put everything in his room in order. The only thing... The framed photograph of Harry and him on the bedside table. He couldn't look at it anyway, so he hid it in the chest of drawers along with the amulet that Harry had given him. Tears welled up in Draco's eyes again and he sat at his desk, opened the schoolbook and focused on reading to smother his memories and ignore the lump in his throat. He had to keep the emptiness away...

* * *

><p>Harry felt miserable. He often sought the grey eyes secretly. They never looked back anymore, the glitter in them had completely disappeared, and they seemed... dead. Something deep inside of Harry kept screaming painfully: <em>'What have I done?..'<em> But it was too late. The company of his friends, who had no idea what was happening in his soul, was a good help to ignore the pain and the feeling of guilt.

Once, during the breakfast on Sunday morning, he was watching the apathetic blond again, while Ginny was telling him something about one of her friends. Still beautiful, still elegant, but Draco looked as if he hadn't been sleeping for several nights. He'd lost some weight and he was as pale as a ghost. Most of the food was left on his plate when he left the Great Hall.

"I'll be right back," Harry said and kissed Ginny's cheek. He followed Draco and soon caught up with him.

"Draco, wait," he said quietly. The startled blond flinched slightly and stopped.

"What do you want?"

"I just... worry about your wellbeing."

"My what?" Draco narrowed his eyes; however, he wasn't even looking at Harry. "Oh, my wellbeing? I'm perfectly fine. I study a lot, I let my interrogators into the intimate details of what happened between me and our dear Saviour, I've moved some furniture... So I've been quite busy, as you can see. And at leisure I'm cursing the day at the very end of September when the great Harry Potter saved me from the bunch of imbeciles. I would have rather preferred to be maimed and beaten up every day until the rest of this school year, if I only knew what kind of things you're capable of. So I _**really**_ appreciate your concern," he chuckled darkly. "Don't waste your time on me; I'm sure, your... umm... '_**better half**_' is tired of waiting for you," he told, trying his best to keep his voice steady, but failed. He was angry as hell and wanted to hurt Harry badly, the way he, Draco, was hurt. He wrapped himself in his long, perfectly ironed robes and left. _'Don't fucking pretend that you care. You don't. You just don't want to feel bad about yourself. You just want to vindicate yourself in your own conceit, that's all. Fuck you, Harry. Fuck you...'_ Dead on his feet, Draco was heading back to his room, only feeling the heaviness of the broken heart in his chest.

"I'm so sorry... I didn't want it to be like this." The brunet lowered his eyes and sighed as Draco had already abandoned his field of view.

* * *

><p>AN There's quite a lot of angst here, but I want you to know that it's just the beginning of the real story.


	10. 9 Fragility

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story. **

**Makeupholic, lizziemarie0529, kitty tokyo uzumaki, 2people, Arcania, Yamiga, MisterMisterMiser, Sunshine, Sun, lostsouloftheunderworld, Lilyth, Aquarinus** - thanks all of you for wonderful reviews. It's a pleasure to read them :).

Ready for the next one?

* * *

><p><em><strong>9. Fragility<strong>_

It was the end of February; a month had passed since they'd broken up. Draco still felt awfully lonely and hurt. He'd only accepted the fact that they would never be together again, but he didn't feel any better about it. His health seemed to have started a real rebellion.

* * *

><p>He felt sick. The food was usual, but he was disgusted with the very look of it. He forced himself to eat, almost without looking at the plate, thinking that he would feel better later. But, instead, he started to feel nauseous and chilly. Finally he almost stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving his half-eaten breakfast. He prayed all the gods by their given names not to let him throw up in the corridor. Once he'd finally reached the lavatory, he closed the door and started to vomit.<p>

In the afternoon he felt much better, though still a little weak. He decided to try to eat the lunch. He tried a few little bites experimentally and his stomach seemed to find it acceptable.

The other day started with disasters. Not only he overslept, but drinking just a glass of water caused vomiting. And he hadn't even eaten yet! He was late on his first lesson, so McGonagall took ten points from Slytherin. At least, he was ready for the lesson and quickly gained those points back. But the whole day was a sheer disappointment. He contrived to stumble on Harry and his girlfriend in the corridor between the lessons. They were walking, talking cheerfully about something, holding hands like a real couple they were. They didn't have to hide. And they looked very happy together... Draco's heart was wrung with dismay, but he never really looked up and just went past them, as if nothing was wrong.

Later, sleepy and dizzy Draco was half-listening professor Sprout's lecture about the stinging poisonous plants. Thankfully, it was the last lesson of this nasty day. When the woman finally offered the students to move to the next greenhouse and look at the different species of the stinging plants, they stood up. Draco stood up as well, but regretted it immediately. He was the last one to leave and he only made a few steps, feeling extremely dizzy and hot; his eyes sunk and he started to fall. He managed to grab the corner of the desk not to hit the ground hard.

He heard very concerned voice of Professor Sprout and forced himself to open his eyes. The professor was kneeling next to him with worry on her face, while he was lying on his back. Draco realized that he had fainted. He assumed he'd been unconscious only for a couple of minutes or so. His shoulder hurt a little; most definitely, he'd hit it on the ground, which was faced with hard masonry. Trying to focus, he moaned weakly. Everything was blurry, but he saw a few students standing near professor and looking down at him. It was embarrassing.

"It's all right, Mr Malfoy. We're going to take you to the infirmary," Sprout said as her panic started to subdue.

"Nnh... No... I'm fine. I just..." he mumbled.

"Goodness, you're so pale," she gasped, shaking her head.

"I just haven't had enough sleep, that's all..." he insisted. He got up slowly with her help. He was dizzy and wanted nothing more than a warm bath and a comfortable bed. "Thank you. There's no need to bother. Continue the lesson, please."

"It's your last lesson of the day, isn't it?" she asked, helping him to sit down on the chair.

"Yes, it is."

"Then go have some rest, at least, if you refuse to go to the infirmary. I dismiss you,"

"Thank you," he said quietly. He just shrugged when she had sent another boy with him, insisting that someone had to see him to his room.

When Draco was on the way from the greenhouse, Harry almost ran against him so suddenly that the blond flinched. The Gryffindor had almost been running back to see what had happened when someone had said that Draco Malfoy had fallen. He stopped and looked at the blond with anxiety in his eyes, not knowing what to say. However, Draco didn't look back. He was looking down, patiently waiting for Harry and the other curious idiots to move away from the door, so he could leave. _'What is it? Someone ran like hell to inform the others that 'Malfoy fainted' or 'finally died'?'_ Draco frowned to himself, but he felt too tired to get angry. In fact, he was indifferent. When everyone had finally let him go through the door, he left with his unwanted (thankfully, silent) escort behind his back. Once they reached the dungeons, he sent the Hufflepuff away and continued his way alone.

Warm bath, potion and bed... It felt so good. Severus came to him before Draco had a chance to fall asleep.

"Draco, what happened? I've been informed of your fainting fit," the man said.

"Oh, it's nothing. You know some people just enjoy making much ado about nothing," Draco shrugged.

"And yet?" Severus insisted.

"I didn't get enough sleep last night and, perhaps, the smell of some plants affected me that way. I'm fine now," Draco assured sleepily. "I'm sure it was professor Sprout, who told you. You know she's a Hufflepuff. Too thin-skinned..."

"You've been studying a lot lately. You ought to rest more."

"Right. That's what I'm trying to do right now," Draco mumbled, barely able to fight the effect of his potion. The familiar and very hospitable oblivion was consuming him, making him feel boneless and utterly relaxed.

"I'm leaving then," Severus shook his head and left.

* * *

><p>This morning he really felt disgusted with food. Even the smell of it made him feel dizzy and nauseous. But he managed to eat a little, avoiding eggs that had become the most unwelcome food for him lately. He couldn't even look at the eggs, no matter how they had been cooked, and the bloody elves kept cooking it for breakfasts! At least, he usually could normally eat dinners and suppers without the dire consequences. But he wasn't enjoying the food anyway.<p>

Later he started to look at the other students covertly, and he was definitely the only one, who suffered from food poisoning. Everyone looked quite fine with their meals, so he started to suspect that someone was poisoning him deliberately. He began to check his meal carefully, smelled it, but there was no sign of poison. He couldn't be sure though, knowing that some poisons could be tasteless and could almost have no smell. There were even some poisons that could adapt and imitate the smell and taste of food, if brewed by a skilful potion-maker. Some poisons were intended to kill very gradually and it was very hard to detect them in the victim's blood after death. It just had to be added in food and drinks periodically, in small doses. These thoughts made him paranoid. Every day he carefully studied people around him and changed places at the table every mealtime. And nothing. Everything looked peaceful and nothing confirmed his suspicions. He'd already lost some more weight. He had always been slender, but now he'd become almost skinny.

It was harder and harder to ignore his health problems. One morning on the way to the Great Hall it happened again. On the verge of fainting, he slid down the wall. A few students moved past him. No one offered him any help, not that he'd expected them to. He still couldn't decide if he was going to faint or vomit. Meanwhile, Severus and McGonagall were heading to the Great Hall for a breakfast and saw the boy sitting near the wall. They approached him quickly.

"Draco, what happened?" Severus asked with concern, kneeling next to him.

"Nothing. I just feel a little sick," Draco replied. He had almost overpowered a fainting fit, but felt dizzy and tired. His body was aching due to fatigue.

"Again?"

"I'm all right, Severus. I just need more sleep. I'll go back into my room and ask one of the elves to bring me my breakfast."

"Mr Malfoy, you've been looking sick lately. I'm sure visiting Madam Pomfrey would be a good decision," McGonagall advised.

"Thank you, headmistress, but, I believe, you're well aware of the poor state of my health. I'm sure there's no particular reason to disturb the other people," Draco refused. He didn't want others to treat him as if he was made of fragile porcelain. He even started to get angry. He just wanted to be left alone. Severus frowned. Something was very wrong with his godson.

"I'll help you to get to your room," he offered.

"No. There's no need to," the boy refused. He stood up, leaning against the wall, and walked away. He headed to his room, but Severus was secretly following him to make sure Draco wouldn't fall on his way.

Draco was lying in bed for some time, then drank a potion to ease the headache and dizziness, and called the elf. He informed the small creature that he was sick and asked to bring him some light breakfast (without eggs!). Vegetable salad and tea with lemon were acceptable and he even felt better after eating, so he thanked the elf kindly for finding something that his unsettled stomach managed to keep down and for staying with him to make sure that he was all right. He was ready for the lessons and his mood was better.

* * *

><p>However, the next morning he fell into a faint in his bathroom before the lessons and found himself lying on the floor when he regained consciousness. Had he fainted from hunger? He hadn't been eating well lately, of course, and this morning wasn't an exception. He had looked at his plate and felt very much like if he'd been looking at the dead rotting rat. Cursing mornings more than ever, he'd moved his plate aside with disgust, had drunk his tea with lemon and returned to his room, since he'd had some time before lessons. No, something was definitely wrong with him. At least, he hadn't fainted with the other people around him as it had happened two previous times. It had been embarrassing. He still had some time to go to the Charms classroom if he moved fast enough. He managed to get there in time; tired, dizzy and feeling hot, hoping he wouldn't faint again during the lesson.<p>

* * *

><p>Harry was restless again and felt utterly guilty. What he had done: left Draco alone and the way he'd done it, had probably affected the blonde's health due to stress. <em>'I brought him only misery and pain,' <em>Harry sighed to himself. Draco's fainting fits scared him. He knew about two of them (someone had told him that Draco had been seen sitting near the wall, looking very sick and both headmistress and Snape had tried to help him, because he'd supposedly fainted) and prayed the gods that that weren't heart attacks or something equally terrible. Nevertheless, the blond sometimes looked very sick and pale. Approaching him and asking him what was wrong, wasn't an option. He'd already tried and it had only hurt and enraged Draco. It was equally pointless to try to read his face, looking for the answers; Harry couldn't do it anymore, because the mask was impenetrable.

* * *

><p>Vomiting had finally stopped and Draco calmed himself with deep breaths. He washed his face with cold water and rinsed his mouth. It was Friday morning after breakfast and he was waiting for the days off like manna from heaven. It was two weeks, perhaps, even more, since it all had begun, but he hadn't been feeling well for even a longer time. He needed rest. <em>'Was I poisoned?'<em> he mused again, though not really believed it anymore. It could be just some disease, caused by stress, and with his weakened health it seemed to be a very logical explanation. The results of his Deep Sleep potion abuse could have finally started to show with such side effects as well. On the other hand, anything could be expected from the people who hated him. He had to check. But for now he had his lessons to attend to. He didn't want to be late and explain himself.

When the lessons were finally over, he headed to his godfather's chambers. The man was still absent, probably busy with those, who had detentions. Draco was allowed to take any books and ingredients he required. He equipped himself with everything he needed and returned into his room.

In his bathroom he brewed a special reactive. That reactive enabled to do the blood tests and reveal many illnesses. In the end he added a few drops of his blood and waited for results. The reactive could only give common information about the state of someone's health. If Draco was poisoned, it wouldn't recognize what kind of poison had been used. There were other, more complicated methods to find out the details. For now Draco had to find out what was wrong with his health in general. Ten minutes later the reactive had gradually changed its colour. On the bottom of the flask it was dark-red with clots. That indicated a heart disease (not terminal, fortunately), and it wasn't something to be surprised by. On the surface it was light-violet and transparent. And in the middle there was a layer of warm grey that resembled smoke or even a moss, covered with thick smoke. In the book he found that it was a sign of general weakness. It wasn't surprising too. But the light-violet on the surface... The only explanation the book gave was pregnancy. And, according to the book, the clearer the light-violet liquid was, the more was the probability of said state. In Draco's case it was very clear. He frowned in frustration and brewed the same reactive again. The result was the same. He cursed. He wasn't in the mood for such jokes. 'Some idiotic mistake' made him brew the other one, but this time he followed the other recipe of the similar reactive. However, it indicated pregnancy as clear as noonday. Everything perfectly matched with the description in the book: colour, consistence, transparency. Somehow the possibility of being poisoned wasn't so frightening anymore. From the book Draco learned that the signs of poisoning were completely different, and they were nothing like the results of his tests. No, he wasn't poisoned and he wasn't hexed; he was damned...

After several hours of brewing and making all those tests he gave up. His fingertips were pricked all over and his eyes hurt because of the fumes. In the end, out of angriness and annoyance, he brewed a reactive that only meant to confirm or disprove pregnancy. To his shock it gave a positive result. He gasped for breath and left the bathroom, refusing to even think of the gained results. It was almost four in the morning. No, he couldn't think anymore.

He sedated himself with potion, slept for almost twelve hours and woke up with a heavy head. It was Saturday and he thanked gods for it. He tried not to think about what had happened last night, but the nausea after a cup of tea was a persistent reminder. He ventured to repeat the pregnancy test. Almost in silent trance he was staring at the liquid in the small glass flask as it was changing its colour, no matter how hard he had mentally begged it not to; it was inexorable. _**Positive**_. He closed his eyes and tried to put his thoughts in order. Fainting fits, morning sickness... Everything seemed logical, except the fact that Draco was a man. He let out a small bitter laugh that changed itself into a bitter cry seconds later. _'I obviously haven't had enough, so something like this had to happen to finish me off...'_ He wept and shivered, sitting on the floor of the bathroom.

Still in tears, disgusted, embarrassed and furious, he poured the contents of the flask out into the sink. He felt sick of himself. _'What a farce!'_

He terribly regretted coming back to school to finish this damn year. He had done it for his future, he reminded himself out of habit. _'What future, for goodness sake?'_ It appeared that coming back to Hogwarts had ruined his life completely, life that hadn't been whole already. He had become even more oppressed after attacks of the spiteful students. He'd fallen in love with Harry and had lost him, and that had torn his heart into pieces. It was even more tragic, considering that he still loved him. And now what? Pregnancy... A nice addition to his woes. Harry had made him pregnant... How could it happen? _'It's impossible. It can not be done without long-dated preparations, and even then, there's no guarantee that it would work,'_ Draco thought. Not that he knew much about the subject, on the contrary, he knew very little about it. He was much more concerned about the fact that it had happened personally to _**him**_!

* * *

><p>For more than two following weeks Draco tried his best to ignore his condition. He knew it was cowardice and 'that thing' inside of him wouldn't disappear if he paid no attention to it. Ignoring wouldn't change situation, of course. He had to do something about it before it started to show. He was already showered with questions by the headmistress, who had seen him looking sick and very pale a few times during breakfasts (not to mention his two fainting fits in public that had happened earlier). She also paid attention to his lack of appetite. She kept summoning him into her office and asking him if the other students bothered him again, assuring him that he could trust her and there was no need to cover up the bullies. He kept answering that he was fine and no one bothered him, so she started to insist that he had to be checked by Madam Pomfrey. Severus also asked questions that were almost the same. "I'll be fine, there's no need to worry about me," Draco always assured them.<p>

His mood was changing from self-pity and absent-mindedness to the angriness. The latter found him once in the DADA lesson. The duels were arranged among the students and Draco's opponent was Januarine Levitus from the Ravenclaw, who reputed to be one of the best duellists of his house. He also was the one who had bullied Draco in the beginning of the school year along with Gryffindors, and along with them he had been given the detentions by McGonagall.

"Are you still here, Malfoy?" Levitus mumbled annoyingly when they were standing on the platform, facing each other.

"I'm surprised that _**you**_'re here and you don't even hide behind your Gryffindork sidekicks. I'm already impressed," Draco replied, giving him a disdainful glance. When they began, Levitus was immediately taken aback by the Slytherin's swift attacks. The Ravenclaw even hadn't been given a chance to attack, he could only defend himself. Draco needed to let off some steam and his opponent was more than suitable for it. He didn't even care that he himself could really get hurt by some of his reflected spells. Januarine was literally blown off by the storm of Draco's wrath. The blond was behind himself and put the Ravenclaw to complete rout, so Levitus was taken away to the infirmary with some burns; deafened and shocked. The damage wasn't grave, of course; nothing that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't fix rather quickly, - in a couple of days. Most students were looking at the blond Slytherin with the frown, but he didn't care. Why would he, if he was already a villain for them? Draco chuckled at them quietly before he left.

A pair of green eyes was watching the blond with concern. Harry knew Draco was far from being fine. Not only he was enraged (though desperation could be seen very clearly behind the anger, and, perhaps, was a source of it), but also it seemed he didn't care about getting hurt. During the duel, he'd hardly cared about evading his own spells that had reflected from Levitus' magical shield! Such demeanour wasn't normal for Draco. The grey eyes never looked back at Harry. Their owner left the hall, looking annoyed, but satisfied with his little revenge, though it obviously wasn't a vengeance behind his actions. It had been nothing like their beautiful duels in the Room Of Requirement... _'Draco, what are you doing to yourself?'_ Harry thought and sighed. Ginny took his hand and called him for dinner, interrupting his thoughts.

The DADA professor from Durmstrang was impressed, almost enraptured; however, he knew that such traumatic duels weren't allowed in Hogwarts, therefore, he made sure that such gifted student wouldn't have any problems after the incident.

* * *

><p>Draco was furious. The world was full of girls and women that would have given anything to get pregnant with a <em><strong>Saviour's<strong>_ child, and, of all people, Harry had banged _**him**_ up, and then just changed him for a Weasley bitch! There were only troubles and pain because of Harry, and Draco was just a fool that he'd allowed it all to happen! He felt used. He hated 'that thing' inside of him! He even avoided touching his stomach out of squeamishness, knowing that it was in there. Not only he didn't want it, he was also scared of it. It was unnatural; Draco was a freak and he was carrying another freak inside. Why was it still alive, robbing Draco of his weak health? He didn't want to share anything with it; however, it was taking everything it needed to live. But there was no reason for it to live. Couldn't the thing feel that it was unwanted, unloved, even hated? Couldn't it feel that _**no one**_ was going to take care of it, so it was best for everyone (and for _**it**_, in the first place) if it... died? Draco felt angry and helpless. No, he had to deal with it. March was nearing its end and he still hadn't done anything about it. He had to get rid of 'the thing' and forget about it. But how? He had once overheard the talk of two girls; it had happened years ago and they had been several years older than him. One of them had said that some other girl had terminated her undesirable pregnancy by taking a very hot bath. He felt uneasy even thinking about it. It seemed so unreliable, and... the way they had been talking about it so casually... He dismissed the thought.

He hadn't found any suitable information among his own or Severus' books, so he started to ransack the school library (not that he really hoped to find something like that at school). It took him almost four days, since he wouldn't ask Pince where to look, for an obvious reason. Finally, he found some book with a couple of recipes of potions to cause a miscarriage. He ignored the distant feeling of pain deep inside of his heart where he'd hoped that he wouldn't find what he had sought. With this book he returned into his room and sat down on the bed. It was Thursday. _'Tomorrow after lessons,'_ he decided. The thought was frightening, but he had to stop being a coward.

Throughout the whole day he tried to prepare himself for what had to be done. He hadn't even noticed how fast the school day flew by; though he wished he had more time. In the evening he became so nervous that he decided to delay this matter till the next day.

The next day he felt utterly depressed and isolated, too much even for himself. After supper he returned into his room and started to brew a potion from the book, trying to keep his heart cold. He decided to pretend that it was for someone else, just to calm his shaking hands. Few hours later it was ready. When it got cold, Draco took the vial and brought it to his lips. His heart was beating fast and the fear was starting to take control over him. Displeased with himself, he put the vial, sill full, back on the desk, and stared at it for some time. And then he cast a glance at the opened book.

'_...You should be aware of the dangers of taking this potion. Such symptoms as vaginal bleeding, weakness, vomiting, stabs of pain, mild fever are considered normal. Possible complications: life-threatening loss of blood, high fever. Without proper examination there's a risk of incomplete miscarriages, which can cause blood poisoning and..._'

This was only a part of the small print at the foot of the page. He'd read it before, but he'd been in some kind of a prostration back then. And now that he'd actually realised what he was about to do, he ran to the bathroom and vomited. He was terrified. The information was addressed to the women, and what would that potion have done to him? His attempt could have actually ended with the internal bleeding. He hadn't thought it out beforehand, he hadn't thought about the consequences. He could have taken the lethal poison to commit suicide equally well, and, perhaps, it would have been less painful (somewhere in the back of his mind he thought that, perhaps, it wasn't such a bad idea, since there was no end to his troubles, but he swept the thought away). He felt even more disgusted with himself, cursed himself. _'How could I be such an idiot, thinking that everything was so simple? Nothing is simple! Not for me, anyway.'_

After pouring the damned potion out into the sink he sat down in the armchair and tried to relax, still shaking. _'What the hell am I doing? I have to clear my mind, concentrate and think before I act.'_

* * *

><p>The next day, however, he felt as if he was half-conscious. And then, when his mind became clearer, he started to think more about what was growing inside of him. It wasn't some kind of a parasite as he'd used to call it. It was a part of him, in the first place; a part of him and Harry, in fact, though he didn't like to think about the latter. It was a human being, no matter how small it was. Could it feel anything already? Could it feel just as miserable and lonely as Draco? He wasn't so sure anymore that he didn't give a damn about it. He didn't really know what he felt, didn't know what to think and what to do. At least, he couldn't ignore and deny it anymore; he was pregnant.<p>

He desperately wanted to talk to someone, but he was too scared, embarrassed and ashamed of himself.


	11. 10 Potionmaking

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! Really nice of you :)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>10. Potion-making<strong>_

Knockturn Alley wasn't a good place for a girl of her age. Well, it actually wasn't good for anyone, who wasn't familiar with the specificity of such places. She hooded her head and turned to the back street, avoiding everyone and walking fast. She entered one of the houses, looking around to make sure no one was following her, walked through the corridor with shabby walls just to reach the door almost in the end of it. The door opened in five minutes after her persistent knocking. The tall woman, almost middle-aged and good-looking in her own way, let the girl in without saying anything. She was smoking a cigarette through a long holder and her expensive dress was quite revealing.

"I'm not quite alone," she said, bringing the cigarette holder to her lips, painted with black lipstick, and casting a glance in the direction of her bedroom.

"I still feel that something is wrong," the girl said, sitting down on the chair of the living room. The woman sat down in front of her, crossing her legs.

"What seems to be the problem?" the woman asked, trying to hide her annoyance.

"Sometimes he doesn't seem to be happy with me," the girl replied. "I thought that I paid you enough to make a better work. My family isn't quite rich."

"It wasn't that easy to break through his mental defence, so the price was more than reasonable. It has only worked because he thought good of you and actually liked you. Not many can do it so good that it would be very hard to detect the influence. I make a lot of money on foolish little witches like yourself, but I'm known for my reputation. If I said that he's yours then never doubt that, but I already told you that no magic can create so-called real love. If that was so easy, everyone would be doing it. You've got what you asked for; he won't be able to leave you. It would be very hard for him to leave even if you'd let him go, and hardly possible if you wouldn't. But that doesn't mean he'll always act the way you want him to. He's just a man, after all, with all his merits and demerits even if he's partly broken and brainwashed now. Subconsciously he feels that he was forced to do something he never wanted to. You've been warned. If you don't like it then you'd be probably more satisfied if he was under the Imperius Curse."

"Of course, not!" the girl exclaimed, finding the joke ridiculous.

"Very good. Now you should leave," the woman said after taking another puff at her cigarette.

"Just one more question... Is that true that some people have lost their minds because of such rituals? I mean..."

"You mean victims. Yes. If he or she has already loved someone else by the time the ritual took place or if the... client completely lost interest and made the victim very miserable."

"Then I have nothing to worry about."

"Of course." The woman forced a smile and showed the girl to the door.

* * *

><p>At first Draco thought about drawing a dramatic picture of some girl, who, as he 'knew', had got pregnant and was scared of telling her parents, and she needed an advice. He swept the thought away immediately. It was stupid and absurd. He blamed his morning dizziness and frowned at himself. He wasn't a child anymore and couldn't afford such idiocy. And besides, Snape was far from being stupid, so he would find the gaps in any foolish story very quickly, much earlier than Draco would get to the middle of it. He stopped trying to compose a lie, knowing full well that it wouldn't work. And he couldn't lie to this man and not only because he would be caught out. <em>'No... Hit or miss,'<em> he thought. Either Severus would help him and support him after finding out the truth or turn him out of doors, repudiate him and leave him to the mercy of fate. He didn't really believe that the latter would happen after everything Severus had done for him, without any words making him believe that he could trust the man no mater what. With all Snape's standoffishness and dourness Draco knew him as a reliable person. But now he was afraid to disappoint him. He wasn't even afraid to make him angry, but disappointing him was another story. The thought made him anxious. On the other hand, Severus would find out sooner or later, one way or another. It would be better if he found out from Draco himself. He wondered if there was any quota of his godfather's patience for him.

* * *

><p>For two days the blond considered the scenario of this conversation, thinking of the better choice of words, and especially of the way to start the talk. But, as soon as he sat down on the chair in front of Severus' desk, he'd lost it all and realised that he wasn't in control of anything anymore. Snape put his book aside and looked at his godson carefully. He hoped that Draco was finally ready for a talk. He had been expecting this. However, Draco's face was paler than usually, and he couldn't force himself to look into Severus' eyes, and apparently he'd lost all the words he'd intended to say.<p>

"Draco, is there anything I can do for you?" he attempted to encourage him, trying to sound soft, not to scare away the remains of his godson's determination. He had seen the determination when Draco had entered his chambers and he had also seen the way the boy had been losing it gradually on the way to his desk. Now he only saw guilt, fear an embarrassment in his eyes.

"I don't... I don't know who else I can talk to," Draco sighed, feeling very uncomfortable. His voice was very quiet and unsure. He felt mildly nauseous, but tried not to concentrate on it.

"I've been expecting you to talk to me, since you've been refusing to answer any questions about what have been troubling you lately. You've been trying to assure me that you were fine when you were obviously not. You're hiding all the time. Does anyone threaten you?" Severus asked, trying to cause Draco to speak after a minute of awkward silence, which was much more awkward for Draco.

"No. It's not about that."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'm scared..." the boy almost whispered. He already wasn't concerned about showing the weakness and helplessness; he no longer cared. He only held back the urge to throw himself into his godfather's arms, if he would be welcomed there, and cry.

"This is obvious," the man replied.

"I don't know if you have ever noticed, but I've always trusted you more than anyone else," _'With the exception of the damned sixth year,'_ "But, perhaps, you're going to hate me now."

"Are you trying to cushion a blow? If you're in trouble, I will try to help you to the best of my ability," Severus promised, speaking calmly and with confidence. A desk was an undesirable obstacle between them, so he sat down on the chair in front of Draco, but not too close. It took Draco another minute to summon up his courage.

"Oh, gods... Severus, I'm pregnant," he finally whispered nervously and closed his eyes tight as if he was expecting a slap across the face. He couldn't venture to look at his interlocutor, truly afraid to see disappointment and disgust. He felt as if his fate was at stake now. Silence was the only answer. Severus' face was impenetrable and thoughtful; however, his heart skipped a beat. He saw the boy's desperation very clearly, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Draco run away alone with all his troubles or hurt himself out of the anguish. He knew the sign of trouble when he saw one, so he had to look as supportive as he actually felt towards the boy. He knew that Draco could do something foolish and irretrievable if Severus acted impulsive now. Draco still refused to look at him, but the silence dispirited him greatly, so he continued:

"Three days ago I tried to cause... a miscarriage. The only way I knew was taking a bath with hot water, but I was too uncertain about it, so I found a book. There was a recipe for the potion... My mind was in a fog. I brewed it and then I read the warning more carefully and realised what could have happened to me if I took it. Most definitely, I would have ended up dead after internal bleeding or gods know what else. I don't know what to do now," he stuttered and started weeping. He couldn't even begin to explain the emptiness he felt. The first shocking statement about the pregnancy was actually eclipsed by the confession that Severus had just heard.

When the boy had started to look so sick and even fainted two times (perhaps even more), Severus had been ready to believe that someone had tried to poison Draco. So he'd ordered the perplexed and alarmed elves of the castle to examine everything Draco had been eating and drinking, but nothing harmful had been found. When Draco had isolated himself from everyone, even Severus, the man had supposed that someone had been threatening and taunting him again, but from what he had seen, the boy hadn't been in touch with anyone at all, so that version had failed, too. Draco had even stopped all his interactions with Potter, though it had happened earlier than those signs had started to show. For a long time already Severus had been noticing Draco's swollen eyelids, because of tears doubtlessly, and his glaring absent-mindedness. He'd been refusing to talk about his problems, had refused to go through the medical examination, and when they had practiced Occlumency and Legilimency a week ago, Draco had been raising such impressive barriers to close his mind out of fear, that Severus couldn't break through them without hurting him badly and even without exhausting himself, so it hadn't been an option to gain the information, too. He had only felt that Draco had been hiding something important, troubling, embarrassing, and the boy had been very concerned to keep it secret. Severus had known that Draco would come to him eventually, only hoping that, whatever had happened to his godson, his life hadn't been in danger, so the conversation could have waited for its time. And here it was.

"For how long have you been with child?" he asked.

"I'm not sure... More than two months, I believe," Draco replied, trying to stop sobbing.

"I see... What are you intending to do about it?"

"I don't know anymore. I'm not sure. I've hoped to get your advice."

"This is **_your_** responsibility. I can't decide for you. You have only two options and both are dangerous for your health. As far as I can see, you're not so resolved to terminate the pregnancy anymore."

"I said I don't know what to do about it."

"If you choose to keep it, you should be aware of the danger. We both know that your health, unfortunately, has suffered the unpleasant alterations and some of them are irretrievable. Pregnancy will give you a hard time, most definitely. It will take a lot from you. Your heart problems can become aggravated. Nevertheless, you should choose your actions wisely. If you think you can carry such burden then don't be in hurry to do anything that you'll probably regret afterwards. There will be no way back, Draco. Don't panic and consider it very carefully. This is the only advice I can give you." His calm voice actually took its effect on Draco. The boy almost stopped weeping.

"I was afraid to disappoint you... But I couldn't hide it anymore."

"I only hope that there will be no more barbaric attempts of the suicidal acts. Can I count on you for that?" the man frowned, but he still had to stay calm.

"I promise I won't do anything like that. I wouldn't want to go through that again." Draco sighed. "You don't ask me how it could happen to me in the first place," he noted. He finally managed to face the man.

"I don't. It doesn't look like you've set it up by your own free will. And if you knew more, you would have already told me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. It doesn't seem to be important now, but I still would like to know. And I'm asking for your help in this, too. Please."

"I'll see what I can do," Severus nodded.

"Thank you," Draco whispered.

"I'd like to examine you if you don't mind."

"Yes, please, do," the boy agreed.

* * *

><p>"Draco, what have you done to yourself?" Severus frowned after almost ten minutes of casting the examining spells.<p>

"W-what?"

"You're quite exhausted. You should have more rest and stop starving yourself. You also have to drink more liquid if you don't want to end up dehydrated. I'll find a way to relieve your morning sickness."

"It would be very nice of you. It's killing me."

"What of your pregnancy..." The other scanning spells followed. Severus hemmed thoughtfully when he finished.

"What did you see?" Draco asked curiously.

"A womb with embryo or, more likely, it's already a small foetus, depending on its age. I think it's about three months old. I couldn't see it clearly, but it already resembles a human being. I felt its heartbeat. This is all information I can provide. You don't expect me to be well versed in this subject, do you?"

"Oh..." Draco was confused. Even this information seemed to be a little too much for him. _'Merlin, I have a womb... Of course, I do. How else...'_

"Any abdominal pains?"

"No."

"We have to find a way to show you to the real mediwizard or mediwitch, but let's save it for the later discussion."

"All right," the boy sighed, though he didn't want to let anyone else into his secret. He just wasn't in the mood to argue.

"It was Potter, I presume," the man drawled after a few moments of silence, though he just wanted to confirm his conjecture.

"Yes," the boy blushed and lowered his gaze. "Was it so obvious?"

"I'm not blind and it was clear for me that, perhaps, you were more than just friendly with each other." Severus intended to ask why they had actually stopped even talking to each other, since they both had looked quite besotted, and then it had stopped all of a sudden, but he refrained from touching the sore spot. He also had no wish to interfere in those affairs.

"Yes, we _**were**_," Draco sighed with deep sadness and regret.

"I assume he's not aware of your condition. Are you going to inform him?"

"No. He has plans for the future and there's no place for me there. He's made his choice. That was fiasco... I found out about pregnancy almost a month and a half after we broke up. I refuse to let anyone else know, except you."

"I see. That brings me to another thing I'd like to discuss. I hope you do remember about our monthly visit to the Ministry in five days," Severus reminded. He wasn't sure that it was an appropriate time for such kind of a talk, but it had to be discussed, since they didn't have much time left before Draco's next idiotic interrogation. "I believe it won't do you any good if they find out."

"I... I've forgotten about it," Draco paled, trying his best to hold back an inconsolable cry of despair.

"They've limited your rights. One can expect anything at all from them."

Draco was terrified. The Ministry could actually grow interested in this case. His private information could find its way to Skeeter again, and that would make his life a real hell, or he could even be detained by the Ministry for medical experiments or something. He was about to faint at the thought. The cases of male pregnancy weren't unique in the Wizarding World, but they were rare enough to draw the attention of the inquisitive minds that would want to make a close study and put him to scrutiny. The Ministry wouldn't mind to make Draco an experimental rat since he was just a nonentity, a son of a Death Eater, who, nevertheless, could be in use for the magical sciences. Most wizards, who resolved to get pregnant were hermits or simply lived a lonely life and had no other way to continue their bloodline or just desired to get to know the joys of fatherhood. Unlike Draco's, their pregnancies were planned; at least, he believed so. And the overwhelming majority of those, who had decided to take the risk, had kept their delicate condition secret. Only later it was possible to find out the truth by certificates of birth were mothers' names weren't mentioned or by the discovered personal journals. But the period of pregnancy was kept under a veil of secrecy. And now Draco thought he knew the reason. But he wasn't actually free and he wasn't protected from the arbitrary decisions of the powers that be. His interrogators already knew about his feelings towards Harry and he hated them for knowing so much details of his life even if he'd almost got used to it. But now it was another story. Thankfully, the interrogation was delayed again. Five days...

"What do I do?" he asked. His voice sounded unfamiliar as if it belonged to someone else. Wasn't it still better to terminate his pregnancy? But how?

"Listen to me very carefully. I don't want them to influence your decision about your pregnancy," Severus said as if reading his mind. "I don't want you even to take them into account. I actually have some ideas. I've been working on something for a long time, and it is the only solution I find acceptable at the moment."

"What is it?" Draco gave him an inquisitive look.

"I'm trying to invent a new potion. It neutralizes Veritaserum," Severus explained.

"That... Now I need something like that more than ever." A spark of hope appeared in Draco's eyes. "What are our probabilities?"

"It's not quite ready yet, but I'm close enough."

"I always wondered why anyone hasn't already invented something like that."

"Similar potions exist, but most of them are far from being perfect. Not to mention that they should be taken _**after**_ taking Veritaserum. In most cases it's quite difficult to do, as you understand."

"In my case it would be impossible. They're watching me closely."

"It's typical. What I'm trying to invent is a potion, which could be taken before the interrogation to make you immune to the truth serum."

"Are you doing it for me?" Draco was amazed.

"Correct. You've been my inspiration. However, I was working on the analogous potions several years ago. The previous versions weren't acceptable. They had undesirable, though short-time, side effects; for example, dimness of mind, which whittles the very purpose of the invention and makes it useless. Your situation made me revise it. If you thought that I planned just to stand aside and keep watching as they humiliate my godson further, you were wrong. I only regret it has been taking so long. I certainly do not intend to make this invention public; otherwise, the Ministry will improve their version of Veritaserum immediately. I'll be more than happy to put a spoke in their wheel." It was true. He couldn't stop hating the way they treated Draco, and he knew that the treatment was unfair. He had no intentions to put up with it. He had a lot of things in his mind to make their lives hard, but those things would bring him straight to Azkaban, most likely, war hero or not. He simply couldn't understand if the world was such a wonderful place that they had nothing better to do than torment a traumatized child, pick him to pieces over and over again. This couldn't be tolerated. He had already allowed them too much. For him Draco was still a child. The only legal thing he could do was press for the shortening of Draco's period of suspension and he was working at it, but that wasn't enough. At least, he was capable of inventing something that could help the boy to keep something that was only his to himself, to give him privacy. Now was the best time than ever to finish his work.

"I always knew you're not the one to trifle with," Draco couldn't help but smile. He was moved. "Why haven't you ever mentioned it before?"

"Because I didn't want to give you any vain hopes and promises. I was planning to finish it in a month, but we only have five days, and thus I need to work hard to finish in time. I believe it's possible. I only need to deal with the minor side effects and make some tests," Severus explained. Draco gasped in surprise.

"And that's all? You're _**that**_ close?"

"I believe I am," the man nodded. "And now you need a rest. Let's go, shall we?"

They entered Draco's room and Severus approached his bedside table.

"Your healing potions are no longer appropriate for you. We have to find the less detrimental replacement. And what is this?" His attention was drawn by two vials of Deep Sleep potion. Draco sat down on the chair and lowered his eyes. He knew what was coming.

"Draco, have you completely lost your mind? For how long have you been taking this and how often?" the man frowned.

"For many months. Every night..." the boy admitted quietly.

"This is the incredible stupidity. Not only you could bring all your healing to nothing, but now that you need your health most, you keep poisoning yourself with this! I'm surprised it hasn't damaged your nervous system yet. I hoped you knew better than doing this to yourself. In certain cases those potions led people to a deep coma or a mental and physical disability. Is that what you want?" he berated his godson.

"I have no excuse... Dreamless Sleep stopped working. I had dreams and they were..."

"So you decided to end your nightmares by killing yourself? Because I fail to see any other explanation."

"Give me, at least, some time so I could lower the doses gradually," Draco asked. He knew his godfather was absolutely right and the scolding was fair, but the thought that he would no longer have a peaceful sleep was bothering him.

"No, this is ruled out. You had 'some time'; months, to be precise."

"Severus, please. You don't know what..." Draco started, but was interrupted.

"Don't try to stir my pity. I'm taking it all away, and I will make sure you won't be able to brew anything like this again. Your health is a priority now, and you're sadly mistaken if you expect me to show indulgence towards your self-destruction."

"I'm not a child," the blond muttered.

"And yet, you have proved that you're not capable of taking care of yourself. You're not poisoning yourself anymore. Do I make myself clear?" Severus frowned again.

"Yes," Draco sighed.

"Is there anything else to surprise me today?"

"No. Now you know everything," the blond said tiredly, still having a guilty look.

"Thank Merlin," Severus sighed sarcastically. "Now go to bed."

Still grumbling and reproving his unwise godchild, he took away every single potion from his room. Draco complied and went to bed. He was tired. Severus gave him the mild Calming Draught. He wasn't sure it would help the boy to relax and sleep well after the strong hypnotics, but it was better than nothing. Draco felt much better now that he'd told his godfather everything and gained his support. The man could really help him with his ability to extricate himself from the difficult situations. Draco felt safe. Severus was only concerned about his well-being and safety; he hadn't scolded him for not telling him everything sooner, for the relationship he'd had with Harry, for the fact he'd contrived to get pregnant. No, he was just angry that Draco could have harmed himself. It was comforting.

He hadn't been sleeping well lately even with potions, so the sleep overpowered him very soon. Contrary to his expectations, he didn't have any nightmares. In the morning he didn't feel very well, but woke up faster than usually. On his bedside table he found a vial and a note. It was a potion to ease his morning sickness. In his note Severus instructed him how he should take it and when. There was also written that the man was busy, and he asked Draco not to bother him without serious reasons.

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><p>Severus hadn't been sleeping for two days and two nights, working on his potion to finish it in time. Alleging illness (nonexistent, of course), he'd cancelled all his lessons and had forbidden to disturb him.<p>

On the third day after lessons Draco's curiosity prevailed over him and he knocked at his godfather's door quietly. The man opened.

"What is it, Draco?"

"Umm... My apology, Severus. May I come in?"

"If you please." He let the boy in and returned to his work. Draco sat down on the chair near the desk where many pieces of parchment with notes and the samples of potion were.

"You look tired," he noticed.

"I'm working," the man said, writing something down. "How do you feel?"

"Better. The potion helps. I still feel dizzy and nauseous in the morning, but my stomach keeps the food down, and, believe me, it's already a miracle."

"Good," Severus nodded, preparing to brew another sample of potion.

"Your enthusiasm is contagious. Can I help?" Draco asked.

"No. You will only distract me and sabotage my work," Severus refused.

"Is that what you think of me? I thought I'm not that bad," his prince smiled with amusement.

"With all respect to your talent you'll still be putting me out."

"May I, at least, stay here for a while?"

"Yes, you may."

"So how is it?"

"Quite good, actually. I'm making a progress. The main problem is calculating the dose. It's individual. If the dose is too small, it won't work, and overdosing will fog your mind and make you incapable of thinking clearly. It's not harmful for your condition; therefore, I want to test it on you. We'll do it tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Draco couldn't wait for the end of the lessons to test the potion that would help him to keep his secrets. He had only this evening and the next day to prepare himself for the interrogation. Reading a book in the corridor between the lessons to kill the time, he felt that someone was watching him. He turned around and saw Luna Lovegood in some crazy kind of spectacles. She looked at his stomach and then smiled at him. He pulled his stomach in instinctively, but frowned at himself; he wasn't showing yet and he was skinny.<p>

"Do you feel them?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Pardon me?" He frowned again. Was she scanning him somehow?

"Wrackspurts," she said. "Harry has plenty of them in his head and now, it seems some of them have settled down in your belly. They're his, I'm sure. They're like that, you know."

"Gods..." he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tiredly. He felt light-headed, he hadn't slept well last night, and the last thing he wanted was a company of some inadequate person. "Sorry, I'm not that... gifted to understand anything you've just said. Look... Just go and annoy someone else. Don't be offended, but..."

"I'm not offended. No one should be," she smiled and went away, singing something cheerfully. He sighed and shook his head.

After the lessons he came to Severus' chambers to test the potion that had to play a significant part in the upcoming events of his life. He had a great expectation for this invention.

His expectations were exceeded, - the potion worked perfectly well with no side effects at all, and throughout the next day Severus was preparing him for the interrogation, so the boy wouldn't arouse any suspicions. Of course, Draco was fretting over it, but he had a very good support now, and it made him feel some confidence. He had to go through that ordeal.


	12. 11 Not your home anymore

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

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><p><strong>I finally found time to answer you properly:<strong>

To Sun: Thank you very much! Good to know you enjoy it :)

To imback: Thanks for your review! I'm afraid it's the only time you can see Luna in the story. I just thought it would be nice to let her see something that others can't; she's good at it, after all.

To kitty tokyo uzumaki: Thanks! Here it is :)

To Lidsworth: Thank you! As for Luna, sorry, I just don't see Draco as nice and kind person when he's not in the mood and especially when he's afraid that his 'embarrassing' secret is going to be revealed. It's still Draco, remember ;)? I don't see him sweet and trusting. I only allowed it with Harry; well, with Severus, too, but it's very different, they know each other for a long time and they have common ground. Draco also knows that Luna is Harry's friend and he doesn't want anything Harry's anywhere near him right now.

To Aquarinus: Indeed, he needed both scolding and a person to rely on. Thanks!

To sara: Harry? Not Ginny ;) ? Thanks for reviewing!

To Magebane: Thank you!

To lostsouloftheunderworld: Thanks! Always a pleasure to read your comments! I seriously don't find selfishness and misanthropy something really evil (but it's me). Severus can be both selfish and selfless. Being unforgiving and often pretty vindictive and irate, he's also capable of feeling love and he's dutiful. He likes challenge and perfectionism. What of Draco, well, in books we often see him as Snape's soft spot. If not for Severus, both Harry and Draco would be long dead. In my opinion, he's a great character to work with when you write fan stories :). His darkness is his special thrill. He's bad for his enemies, though. I wouldn't want to be one ;). I only don't like it when he's portrayed too soft and emotional, though I haven't read many fanfics, I once found where he was like that and to me it looked like it was someone else, not Snape.

To Lilyth: Thanks a lot! Yes, it was Ginny.

To Bad Bad King: Thank you! Here it is.

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><p><strong>I appreciate your reviews!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>11. Not your home anymore<strong>_

He woke up early in the morning after he'd been tossing and turning a good half of the night. The eighth of April... He was in a highly nervous state because of the forthcoming visit to the Ministry. He already felt nauseous. Warm bath with fragrant oil wasn't actually helpful.

Draco tried to think about anything pleasant. He had some good and happy memories about his mother, but he knew he would end up in tears again, thinking about her. Thank goodness, he had Severus. He had no one else to turn to and he wasn't sure he'd ever really had. Snape had never pitied him, he had hardly ever showed any sentiments; but he was there for him. Draco felt guilty for not trusting him in his sixth year, though the man had never given him any reason to mistrust him before that. Draco had got scared and had refused to take his help or even to listen to him and had been driving himself further and further into the madness. He'd even been angry with him, had snapped at him, acting like a cornered animal, because he'd believed that Severus had acted not as his godfather, but as a Death Eater who had tested Draco's loyalty to the Dark Lord or just gain favour with him. When he'd been told the truth he'd felt utterly ashamed of himself, but relieved at the same time. And he'd felt guilty, too. Because of him Severus had killed Dumbledore and it had had nothing to do with the Unbreakable Vow the man had given to Draco's mother. He'd just refused to allow his godson to become a murderer. Of course, there had been more and Dumbledore had played his part in his own death, too, but it hadn't made Draco stop blaming himself. He wondered why Severus himself had never blamed him openly. Perhaps, that was because Snape had made his choice and that was the only choice he'd had due to the circumstances.

_'Yes, he has done so much for me, and now I gave him another reason to bother. Lovesick and pregnant godson isn't something anyone really wants,' _he sighed to himself, sitting in the armchair after taking a bath.

He remembered the time when he'd been a child. He remembered the way he'd been tugging Snape's sleeve to attract his attention when the man had visited them. When Lucius had been away, Draco had always reached his little hands up to make his godfather take him in his arms. Lucius, of course, would have disapproved such a display of a sentiment from his son, but he'd been away and Draco's mysterious godfather would have never betrayed his demeanour to the older Malfoy. Little Draco had known that the man had been capable of keeping secrets; they all had been kept safe behind the black eyes, even safer than behind any magical wards. He'd been sure that Severus had a lot of secrets of other people and his own, but no matter how long he had been looking into the blackness of his eyes, none of them had been given away, so Draco had known that he had a trustworthy person by his side, and quite intriguing, too. He had felt strength in his every word and gesture. In part that was the reason the boy had been so attracted to a man. The other part was some warmth directed at him even if Severus had remained seemingly cold. And Draco had thought that, perhaps, he'd been the only person, who could feel that warmth. That fact had been making him feel special and important, and he'd even thought that if Severus would have decided to have his own family and children, he would have felt jealous of a man and even betrayed, no matter how selfish the thought was. Several times he had visited his godfather as well, though not as many times as he would have preferred, and for hours he could sit and watch him brewing potions until he had fallen asleep with his small head resting on the table. Or he could play with Severus' black cat, which sometimes hadn't been in the mood for playing and scratched his hands, making him run to the man in tears. Crying was something he hadn't been allowed at home. And then he'd been gaining the man's attention, silent care and the familiar warmth. Not that it had been necessary to hurt himself to gain it. The blond boy had been so little back then.

_'Well... I can still watch him brewing for hours and, it appears, I still run to him in tears sometimes. Some things never change,' _he thought, slightly amused. It was good to have someone he could trust with his life.

* * *

><p>He was released from his lessons for this day by the official letter, as usually, and he had some time to collect himself. He even risked and ate something to avoid the possible fainting, but ended up vomiting, despite of the potion. The second try after waiting for about an hour was much more successful. This day was some kind of a turning point for him, and, when Severus came after him, Draco's heart already started to beat faster in apprehension.<p>

They were walking through the corridors of the Ministry, heading to the office, which was the same every month. Draco was walking slowly; his fear became overwhelming and almost paralyzing. The same fear... Very similar fear he had felt when Voldemort had proclaimed him to be a traitor or even before that. That had entailed his captivity, endless tortures and his mother's death. And now he had this frightening anticipation again, even if it was an exaggeration. He tried his best to ignore the foreboding of evil, but that seemed impossible. This time it wasn't only himself he was concerned about. He'd got his godfather involved in his troubles once again. And, to his surprise, he realised that he was also scared for the little life inside of him. He felt nauseous. Severus could practically sense the fear in the air around the boy, like an aura. He put his hand on his shoulder to stop him and Draco stopped right away. His knees were trembling. He was convinced that the interrogation would certainly end badly for him, when the interrogators would see him in such state. He started to calculate the possible outcomes of the meeting. At the best, they would hold him up to ridicule, make his secret public, especially knowing who had banged him up. In that case, Harry would find out, too. Draco turned to Severus, allowing him to see his pale and miserable face. Snape wasn't glad at all, seeing the depressed and very vulnerable boy, who'd almost given up beforehand, and was trying to prepare himself to the dire consequences. He felt very much like leading Draco to the execution. He didn't want to think about the failure, but internally decided that if anything would go wrong, he would throw all his efforts into Draco's and his unborn child's defence, even if that would mean becoming an outlaw.

"We still have a little more than twenty five minutes for you to collect yourself," he stated. As much as Draco liked 'we', which made him feel that he wasn't alone in this, he was feeling worse and worse.

"I need to use the lavatory," he almost whispered. Snape nodded.

Once Draco entered the lavatory, he coughed and started to vomit. His body was getting rid of the Calming Draught (which wasn't very calming right now anyway), the potion that was supposed to block the effect of the Veritaserum and, ironically enough, the potion that was meant to ease the nausea. Draco tried his best to control his frazzled nerves and to cease the panic attack. But, instead, he started to feel claustrophobic and disoriented. He was hyperventilating and was truly afraid to choke on his vomit. Once he stopped vomiting, he rinsed his mouth and drank some water. Trying to even his breathing, he washed his face with cold water. He seriously started to think of an option of running away and hiding.

"I can't..." he sighed, finally going out. He felt bad, really bad.

"You have to go through this, Draco. Don't make them suspicious, delaying the meeting for another day. You're probably going to have months of this ahead of you, and you have to learn to cope with it since today."

"I know... I feel sick. I need all three potions again and I've left them in my room," Draco said, slightly embarrassed that he hadn't foreseen such possibility.

"I have them," Severus sighed. He hadn't trusted Draco to be prudent and reasonable in such nervous state.

"You do?" the boy livened up a little.

"Here..." Snape retrieved three small vials from the inner pocket of his robes and showed his godson to the nearest bench. "Sit and try to calm down."

They sat down on the bench. Draco drank potions one by one, making small breaks between taking them.

"Thank you," the blond whispered and closed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall. "I hope you have more. I feel so sick..." He coughed and pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling the urge to throw up again. Snape spelled the translucent, barely visible hand fan that started to wave back and forth in front of Draco's face to refresh it.

"Try to relax, breathe and remember what we discussed yesterday," Severus said. At first Draco's nausea aggravated, because his empty stomach had got something it could reject, but then Draco felt a little better, enjoying the cooling air flow on his skin, so he started to talk:

"I shouldn't touch my hair and face during the conversation. I shouldn't draw my eyes aside. I have to look right in front of me. If I look in the eyes, I should look without challenge, but with confidence. I should not answer too quickly, but also I shouldn't consider the answers for too long. I shouldn't raise my voice no matter what. I have to keep my demeanour neutral. I should tell the truth, unless the questions will touch upon my health and personal changes of my life. When such questions will be asked, I have to remember my answers carefully not to draw myself into a trap, in case they rephrase those questions later. I should breathe steadily and calmly." Draco inhaled deeply.

"There's nothing you wouldn't handle," the older man assured. "You've seen those people so many times that you should be able to wrap them around your finger easily. You know them, you know what questions they are going to ask you; to the best of my belief, the questions are similar time after time. You know how to act, so your demeanour wouldn't differ from your previous conversations with them. We have already premeditated all the possibilities. And I was always convinced that you do have a potential of a man, capable of manipulating the other people when you have a motivation and when the situation requires it. And don't forget that your interrogators would hardly waste more time on you than it's necessary. First months they were attentive and studied your every gesture and every answer, but now they don't expect to hear and see anything they haven't heard and seen before. Potter was an exception. Don't forget that you have a substantial advantage over them, - they will be convinced that you're under the effect of Veritaserum, and they will relay on its effect more than on their own attention. I've never had any doubts that the Ministry is the nest of the incompetence and stupidity, and I'm sure that your interrogators do not differ from the other fools. There's no ground for panic."

The words were indeed very encouraging. Yes, Severus knew the right approach to his godson. Draco, though he'd often seemed to be well-opinionated person, had hardly ever received praise or obtained the sincere acceptance. For Lucius he had never been good enough and his mother had been neutral most of the time with all her love to her son, though he'd always felt that she'd been proud of him, no matter what, and her son was the best. The other people had been flattering him with the hope of receiving something from him because of the influence his family had had. Of course, Draco had had his devotees before, and those people had been looking at him with admiration, but the blond Slytherin had never thought highly of their opinion, because those people had never meant much to him and there still had been a possibility that they had seen the Malfoy's name behind all of his achievements.

And Severus meant much to him, as well as his point of view. Snape knew well enough that the boy needed the approval of the people he cared about, even if he hardly ever showed it. And Draco knew that his godfather's voice could work miracles. Sometimes it could make others drip with cold sweat and run like hell from the 'evil teacher' and sometimes it could make people lower their psychological defence, calm down and obey. For Draco it had always been a mystery, since the voice could sound almost similar in both cases, but Snape often contrived to get the desirable results. It had something to do with undertones and tinges of the voice and that was enough. For example, he had never told Draco that he loved him as if he was his son, but Draco always felt it, at least, subconsciously, and he liked to think that way. The boy had once joked that his godfather was capable of convincing people to commit mass suicide, using the velvet voice, if he wanted them to. It was exaggeration, of course, though he had been sure somehow that he hadn't been far from the truth. After all, this man had managed to fool the damned Dark Lord for a long time! Draco knew that the price had been high, but that didn't detract from his merit.

Draco actually smiled at his thoughts. He felt warm and more determined after Severus' words (and after hearing his confident voice, of course) and the man finally saw a spark in the boy's eyes, which was a good sign. _'Gods, I should stop thinking like a little child,'_ Draco thought and shook his head.

The hand fan disappeared and they got up. On the way to the room Draco mentally counted to thirty and back, not letting himself become anxious again. When they reached the room, Severus simply nodded supportively. Draco took a deep breath. He knew that one of two of his interrogators was an Auror and a skilful mediwizard as well. If Draco fainted during the interrogation, the man would examine him to find out what was wrong, Severus wouldn't be there to stop him and Draco wouldn't even present to witness his own failure, being unconscious. He tried to clear his mind from such frightening thoughts and entered. Severus followed him with his eyes. He wasn't allowed to go inside. This was motivated by the interrogators' conviction that he could somehow influence the process. They had strong reasons though.

He was waiting for Draco outside the room just like he'd been doing since the very first time. Almost every time his godson had gone out, he had been looking humiliated and depressed, and Snape had never insisted on the discussion of what had been happening behind the closed doors of the room. He knew that the questions were uncomfortable and unethical, making Draco remember things he tried to forget and leave behind. Recently, however, Draco had started to take it easier and had considered those monthly visits only as an inevitable duty. He had started to resign to it, so the last months' visits had passed without incidents. Except one time when the boy had gone out with the blood on his badly bitten lips and tongue. He had obviously tried to hold back his relationship with Potter or just his feelings towards the Gryffindor. Severus hadn't known for sure if they had been 'just friends' or there had already been something more between them back then. Anyway, Draco's desperate attempt to hide it, had failed under the effect of the truth potion.

Nevertheless, today was totally different and Severus sincerely hoped that Draco wouldn't succumb to panic.

Draco was dismissed after half of an hour. Usually the interrogations lasted for an hour or so. Severus looked at the boy carefully, but Draco didn't give him any time to analyze his expression or ask questions, he approached and held him tight. Actually, he was holding him like a lifeline. Just when Severus suspected the worst, he heard a sigh of relief against his shoulder. And when he held Draco in return, he heard a quiet whimper. Snape lifted boy's face by the chin and looked at him. He saw tears of relief and a small sad smile.

"It worked. They suspect nothing. You have no idea how much it means to me," he sighed. "Please, let's get out of here."

He didn't have to ask twice. When they returned into the castle, Severus brewed him some peppermint tea and Draco felt much better after drinking it.

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><p>And then Draco was suffering from the withdrawal because of his long-time abuse of the Deep Sleep potion. It was very hard for him. His addiction wasn't really physical (the potion itself wasn't habit-forming), it was psychological. He'd just developed a habit, had simply got used to fall asleep, knowing that nothing would trouble him. And now he started to fall asleep with anxiety. Almost every day he begged Severus to give it to him 'one last time and never again', 'just tonight, I swear'; he asked for a slow and gradual reduction in dose, but the man was unyielding. Every time he reminded Draco about his condition or simply gave him a look of disapproval and a frown. It was enough to make the boy stop cadging and pleading. Draco was angry with himself for his own weakness; he was pathetic! Severus also forbade him to take any ingredients from the school stocks or his own. He simply warded them. If Draco needed something, for example, for his studying, he had to ask permission and take it from his godfather's hands and there was no other way to get it. Draco knew the control was necessary. Some nights he couldn't sleep at all, because he was simply unaccustomed to fall asleep without using a strong hypnotic, or his sleep was disturbing. As a result he felt depressed and sleepy at days, so he could hardly pay attention to professors during the lessons. Severus, of course, noticed it and took pity on him, realising that depriving Draco of his potions abruptly was more harmful than he'd thought. He started to give him a mild version of Dreamless Sleep potion and equally mild Sleeping Draught that weren't harmful for the boy and his child. Since then Draco could finally sleep. He saw some dreams, but they were so dim that he couldn't remember anything in the morning. He was surprised and thankful that it had effect on him at all after much stronger potions. He sometimes was still sleepy, but that was his pregnancy to blame. Speaking of pregnancy, Draco still intended to find out why it had happened to him.<p>

"I can't ascertain the cause of your condition. It can not be something you were born with. Apparently, the reason is magical, not physiological," Severus drawled thoughtfully after another examination.

"Severus, I have no idea what exactly am I looking for and where," Draco sighed.

"I suppose, you should start with the Manor, while I'll be studying all the available books."

"How am I going to get in there? The Manor is sealed and I have tracking spells on me."

"This is something I can help you with."

"Really?" Draco gave him a surprised smile.

"I would have hardly survived as a spy for so long if I had no particular skills, don't you think?"

"Right. I should stop being surprised."

"And besides, the wards, they have sustained, are much weaker than those that protected the Manor for centuries. I suggest we start tomorrow."

The next day after lessons Draco had some time for his research. However, Severus insisted that the boy shouldn't stay in the Manor for more than three hours. Draco's wand was left in Severus' study after the ritual that temporary allowed deceiving all the tracking spells. They apparated to the Manor and Severus carefully led them through the wards, so they wouldn't alarm the Aurors. Once they entered the house, the man gave Draco his own wand (not very suitable for Draco, but it was still better than nothing), but asked him not to use magic without serious reasons. He promised to return for him in three hours and left.

For almost half of an hour already Draco had been searching through the house. He still didn't know what he was looking for. He wondered if his parents had known that their son had the ability to get pregnant. Not likely. If Lucius had known, he would have repudiated Draco much sooner. _'Oh, he would have hated me for this. Not that he ever loved me... What if he knew and it was another reason to consider me a disgrace?'_ No, he doubted that...

He looked through the family library in passing, checked all the books that had no titles on their backs. And then he headed to Narcissa's rooms. She had her own study. He checked all her notes and diaries. There was nothing special in them. He also found his own old medical papers and read them carefully, hoping to find anything useful. But he didn't find any answers. Severus was right: the reason wasn't physiological. _'I wasn't some kind of a freak. I was born as a normal boy. The healers would have found out if I had any anomalies. Unless they were bribed to keep silence,'_ he mused, but decided that he wasn't making sense in his suppositions. Pomfrey gave the medical check-ups to all the students every year, and she was hardly a person to bribe and make her falsify the papers. However, he couldn't be sure about anything at all. But something deep inside of him prompted that he wasn't looking in the right place. But where else? Absorbed in his thoughts, he was pacing the Manor, attracting the eyes of his ancestors on the portraits. They were silent, but watched him fixedly, and Draco felt a little uncomfortable because of it.

It was so awkwardly silent and gloomy in the place that had used to be his home. He had a lot of nostalgic memories, good memories. But many were bad, some were terrible. The emotions were conflicting. He couldn't help, but go to his own rooms. Everything looked untouched. He knew, the Manor had been searched backwards and forwards, every single object had been scrutinized, but, at least, the Aurors hadn't left the mess behind them. For some time he was sitting at the desk in his study and looked through his big collection of coins from both worlds. He had collected them in boxes made of obsidian. Each box contained coins of the different ages. Many coins were very ancient. He even had the ancient Chinese coins made in odd, but interesting shapes. This pastime helped him to relax. He hardly missed the Manor itself, but he missed some of his things. But most of all, he missed his mother... It felt strange to come back to that place, knowing that she wasn't there any longer.

When Severus returned, Draco took some photographs of her with him before they left.

"I haven't found anything. But, then again, I don't know what I'm looking for," he said, when they returned to Severus' chambers.

"I see. Allow me to look through your memories. We need to know if any magical rituals, that could be responsible for your condition, have ever taken place" Snape offered.

"But I don't remember anything like that." Draco shook his head.

"What if you were too young to understand what was happening?"

"Don't you think it was some... cruel accident?"

"I don't believe in such 'accidents'," Severus said with slight frown.

"Fine," the blond agreed.

After almost an hour of looking through Draco's memories, Severus gave up. He hadn't even found any signs that Draco had ever been obliviated, though he could have hardly found any if something like that had been done by a very skilful person to cover their deeds.

"No, nothing," he said, shaking his head.

"What if it's not about me? Could Potter be the reason?" Draco suggested, wincing because of the headache, even though the intrusion in his mind had been very careful.

"I don't think so, even if he was very diligent and exceptionally fertile," Severus replied with sarcasm. Draco blushed and cleared his throat.

"I want to go back to the Manor tomorrow," he said.

"Very well. But now go have some sleep. Don't forget your new healing potions."

"Thank you for everything. What would I do without you?" the blond said sincerely. Severus just waved him away. Draco chuckled softly at that and left, taking several vials with him.

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><p>Draco was searching through the Manor again. He was getting deeper and deeper into the doubts that there was any chance to find anything at all. Finally he reached Lucius' study; the place he'd never liked, and started to look through all the papers and letters he found there. It took more than an hour, but there was nothing interesting. But then he found a strange letter that really confused him:<p>

_'Lucius, _

_You can not be sure that the Dark Lord will accept your gift and your family will be honoured with the continuation of His life in a new body even if He considers such possibility, but not before accomplishing a new order. And your son still hasn't shown himself worthy, however, he's only fifteen years old. I understand what you're trying to achieve: you want your family to be the most respected in a new world. As a true follower, you must be prepared, since the gods haven't granted you a daughter, if you don't want the other followers with daughters to outstrip you. But even if you will be prepared, there's no guarantee.'_

The letter wasn't signed. Draco felt a lump in his throat. _'What the hell does it mean? '...His life in a new body...' Lucius wanted to give my body to Voldemort __**or**__... Oh, Gods, no! No, no, no!'_

His hands were shaking when he was giving the letter to Severus. The man could hardly say anything when he'd finished reading it. It hadn't been a secret that Lucius had been preparing his son to make him another follower, a Death Eater, but Snape had had no idea that there was much more behind it. He also knew that Voldemort had probably desired to have a new, more human body, but it had never been his obsession. It had been mentioned only once without discussing the ways of achieving it. But, of course, Severus couldn't know everything. For Lucius it had obviously become an idée fixe. Severus didn't recognize the handwriting, but it apparently belonged to a woman. Merlin knew, who had been Lucius consulting with.

"So, he made me a sack for carrying a... _**a thing**_ that had to become the next body for Voldemort. Severus, he disfigured and ruined all my life, but now that he's dead, it seems, he keeps doing it right from his grave! He wasn't even taking me for a human being! All my life he was drumming into my head the things about the blood purity and then... I know, he was a fanatic, but that was extreme! Bastard!" Draco exploded with anger. He was pacing the room nervously. He'd been supposed to become an offering to the monster... Lucius would have laid his only son under a maniac just to prove his loyalty.

"I can only suppose that he systematically poured something into your food or drinks, probably, during your holidays," the older man said thoughtfully, ignoring Draco's outburst. "Your body wasn't reacting in an obvious way. I examined you on several occasions, as you know, but I've never noticed anything unusual. It makes me think that all the changes came into force simultaneously with the conception or just before it. It's impossible to know for sure now. Did you feel anything... unusual?"

"No..." the blond replied. His voice was trembling. "Just great. He turned me into a freak." They were speechless for a few moments. "I want to ask you something... Do you think my mother knew about it? It's important for me to know," he said quietly. He felt so betrayed, that he didn't know what to think anymore. Thinking that his mother had been somehow involved in this madness was unbearable.

"I think, no. She would have hardly allowed that to happen if she knew. And even if she would have failed to prevent it, she would have found a way to warn you," Severus answered. He couldn't be sure, but he truly believed in what he was saying, and Draco needed it.

"Thank you..." the boy whispered and left.

In his room he tried his best to calm down. He felt dirty even thinking about the possibility of being thrown in the hands of a monster to be raped (because there was no way he would have agreed to it willingly), and then to carry an abomination. He wasn't sure he would have kept any sanity after something like that. No, he would have done anything to kill it, even if that meant killing himself in the process. The other possibility of getting pregnant had been that bastard, who had tried to rape Draco, forcing him to look into Narcissa's dead eyes while he had been pawing her crying son. Thank goodness, the bastard had been stopped, and even if he hadn't been stopped, Draco wouldn't have been able to carry the child back then due to the state of his health. Perhaps, both Draco and the child would have been dead later. Not that the conception had been guaranteed at all; he wasn't sure he'd got pregnant after the very first time with Harry. He didn't know (and he didn't want to know).

He washed his face with cold water and made another attempt to calm down, taking control over his breathing. And then he pressed a palm to his stomach. It was the first time he was doing it consciously. There, behind his skin, behind his muscles, inside of him... He looked down.

"You're not an abomination..." he sighed, still keeping his hand on his lower abdomen. "I still don't know if I want you; I don't think I do. But I don't hate you. It's not your fault that my father was a bastard and a monster, and it's not your fault that your both fathers are complete morons. We are not very lucky, are we?" He chuckled bitterly.

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><p>Draco was spending his day off in a Potions classroom, preparing the ingredients for the brewing; he sorted out what had to be sorted out, powdered what had to be powdered, distilled what had to be distilled and signed the vials, jars and boxes that had no labels. It was easier to view things in a sensible light while he was busy with something that required some concentration, but wasn't difficult at the same time.<p>

He'd actually planned to let Malfoy's name disappear with him, but the destiny, apparently, had its own plans for him. He already knew that he wouldn't be able to get rid of the little life inside of him. He wasn't sure how he would live with himself if he destroyed it. Would he feel empty or would he feel like a murderer? He definitely didn't want to find out. He just knew that Harry had left a void in his soul and losing a child would only enlarge it. And again, Draco remembered what Severus had said when he'd scanned him with a spell. He often remembered those special words: _'...already resembles a human being. I felt its heartbeat...'_ Perhaps, the man had known how much those words would affect the boy. Perhaps, he had known that Draco would hardly forgive himself for getting rid of the part of himself. But, most likely, Draco just had been given a _**choice**_ and he'd had to make that choice, being of sound mind and memory, the way he was now. No, Draco was nothing like Lucius. He wouldn't kill his own flesh and blood or betray it in any other way. Probably, this child was the only way for him to have his own family, since he hadn't intended (or wouldn't be able somehow) to have it in a normal, generally accepted way.

With all these thoughts he hadn't even noticed Severus when the man had entered the classroom.

"You haven't left anything for today's detentions," he said. Draco flinched slightly, but then smiled.

"But today is Saturday," he reminded.

"Yes, but I still have students in detention."

Draco smiled again, but then became serious: "I want to discuss something with you."

"Very well," Severus nodded and sat down on the chair. The boy followed his example and sat down in front of him.

"I've come to the decision," Draco started. Somehow he had the impression that his godfather already knew what decision he had come to.

"And?" the man asked, nevertheless.

"I want to keep this child."

"I see. If I may ask, what influenced your decision?" Severus drawled.

"Your words after you examined me and saw a child. And the other thing... I've just tried to view this situation from a new perspective. What do you think?"

"I think it's good that you finally know what to do."

"But I need your help."

"You have it."

"Thank you. I'm really sorry that I burden you with it," the blond Slytherin sighed. "May I ask you something?"

"By all means," the man nodded.

"I expected you to disapprove my relationship with Potter. But you knew everything and never reproached me. You never even said a word about it when we were... together," Draco said, lowering his eyes. Mostly he asked it out of curiosity, but also because he thought that maybe, just maybe, some answers would help him to understand the reason of what had happened. Severus didn't really like Harry, and he could have made, at least, some scornful comment, knowing that they'd been together, when they'd actually been together, even though it was none of his business; but he'd made no sign that he'd even known. Of course, Snape had known about their rendezvous. He also knew that Draco had been happy with Potter. The boy hadn't been that happy for a very long time.

"I do not say, I approved it, but certainly it wasn't my place to disapprove it either. Have I ever intervened in your personal life? If that would have put your life in danger, I believe, I would have intervened; otherwise it was none of my concern. Quite frankly, I expected you to get together sooner."

"What do you mean?" the blond asked inquisitively.

"It just seemed logical, in some ways. If my memory serves me correctly, there were always strong emotions between two of you. And, as I already said, I'm not blind. I'm not quite sure about him; what of you, you claimed to hate him, but there were some discords in your actions. When you truly hate, you act colder and wiser. What do you want me to say? That you were trying to hurt him, at least, verbally, not quite with the true purpose to hurt him, but to make him react?"

"I realised it only this year... So you think feelings are logical? Why did he really leave me then?"

"I said they are logical, but I didn't say they are predictable. Circumstances, other people; anything could have influenced. I don't know how to answer your question. I'm not quite the right person for such conversations."

"But you're a good observer. Thank you. I just wanted to know your opinion," Draco thanked quietly. He wondered why he was still trying to find an excuse for Harry. It was simple: Harry had left, because he'd never really felt anything towards Draco. Nothing to be surprised at...

The students entered the classroom to serve their detention, so the blond left.


	13. 12 So close, but too far away

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

To Yamiga: Well, officially it's his, though it's sealed right now, but Voldemort had fully _**enjoyed**_ his stay there, so it's not quite a pleasant place to live. Thank you! Glad you enjoy reading it :)

To Sun: Thank _**you**_!

To kitty tokyo uzumaki: Thanks a lot! Here's the next one.

To Battery: I promised you, no veela business here ;). Draco's still getting used to it and he's still confused.

To Aquarinus: Glad you enjoyed! Yes, I'm planning daily updates. Could have updated more often, but too much work and other things to do.

To Psychosocial: Thanks for your review! Here's the next chapter. Have fun ;)!

To Scath-Bunus: I hope you're going to keep enjoying. Thank you!

To Morrigana Fayetta: I'm glad you're reading again :). Thanks for reviewing!

To Lilyth: Yes, but his heart is broken, so... Glad you liked it :)

To AcadianProud: Every question will be answered, eventually :). Thank you for commenting!

To sara: Thanks! Here it is.

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><p><em><strong>12. So close, but too far away <strong>_

Harry and Ginny entered the Great Hall together. They were quite early and not many students were there to have their breakfast. Even the professors weren't there yet. Harry suddenly saw that most people were moving to the Slytherin's table and some even looked concerned. He came closer, too, and felt numb with terror. Draco was lying on the floor deathly pale. Some Slytherin boy cast 'Rennervate', but it didn't work. Harry's heart sank. He ran to the blond and his legs almost gave way. He kneeled beside him to check his breath. To his relieve, Draco was breathing. Ignoring plenty of surprised eyes and something that Ginny was saying to him (he couldn't hear her or anyone else), he lifted the blond in his arms carefully and carried him to the infirmary. He was beside himself with worry, and he hardly felt the weight of Draco's body in his arms, though his knees were weak. _'What if it's a heart attack? Or maybe someone has hurt him with a curse or something? What if he's dying? !' _Harry worked up his fears even more, and it induced him to walk faster. He entered the hospital wing and carefully laid Draco on the first bed that came across. He loosened the blonde's tie, undid two top buttons of his shirt and took his shoes off.

"Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled. Draco began to stir. He opened his eyes, but obviously couldn't focus on anything. The mediwitch appeared quickly.

"Mr Potter? What happened?" she asked with concern.

"Draco... fell..." Harry stuttered. Meanwhile, Draco almost regained his senses. He started to panic, seeing Madam Pomfrey and Harry.

"No..." he whispered and shook his head.

"It's all right, Mr Malfoy," the mediwitch hushed him and approached.

"No! Make him leave!" Draco screamed. He wasn't angry, he was in panic that his secret was about to unravel and in Harry's presence! "Get out! Please... Please, make him leave..." he moaned desperately. Harry was stunned. He knew he deserved this and far worse, but he'd expected hatred or, at least, anger. And, instead, Draco was scared out of his mind.

"Mr Potter, please, leave us," the woman said quietly.

"Yes, right..." Harry mumbled and walked away very puzzled with Draco's reaction, and still concerned about his health.

"He's left," the mediwitch said softly. "Now I have to examine you to find out what happened."

"No," he said and shook his head again. Despite of his painful weakness, he tried to get up. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're very pale and you look very ill," she insisted.

"I'm all right, I assure you. And I have to go. I have lessons."

"I can't let you go like this. Please, behave yourself, Mr Malfoy, and let me cast some diagnostic spells on you."

"No!" he almost cried out and finally managed to get up. He felt dizzy and exhausted, but tried his best to make 'a healthy look' on his face.

"Mr Malfoy!" she frowned and pointed her wand at him. He started to back away with the pleading eyes, shaking his head _'no'_ and holding his trembling hands in front of himself as if it could protect him. She wasn't angry anymore, seeing that something was seriously wrong. His whole appearance begged her not to cast the spell that would let her know about his delicate condition.

"No, please... Don't," he whispered. The scene looked almost comical as he kept pleading and moving backwards slowly, and the woman was following him tentatively, without coming too close, though still pointing her wand at him and trying to deal with the distressed youth. In her large practice she had never seen anything like this. She didn't dare to ignore him, just casting the necessary spells against his will, realising that the boy would just go off into hysterics if she tried anything. She attempted to persuade him in a friendly way:

"Please, calm down. Trust me. If you have something to hide, I won't let anyone else know, I promise. I can see that you're hiding something. You can trust me no matter what it is. I'm not here to hurt you, blame you or judge you. I won't examine you without your permission, but I want you to tell me what happened to you, so I could help," the woman tried to reach out to his mind and lowered her wand to subdue his nervousness. He gave her a dubious look and stopped, weighing her words in his mind. The mediwitch stopped too and gave him time to decide, watching him carefully and realising that he was having an inner conflict. Pomfrey wondered if he was just scared to say that he was hurt by the other students and threatened, so he would keep silence about it. She noticed the way he pressed his hand to his stomach for a few moments in some protective way. It was something he had done unconsciously. She wondered if he was in pain, however, she wasn't noticing any obvious signs.

Draco didn't want to tell anyone else about his pregnancy, but Severus for many days had been trying to convince him to consult a healer and he mentioned Pomfrey in the first place, giving the sensible arguments that she was a competent and trustworthy mediwitch. And she also was right there in the castle, so he wouldn't have to go anywhere, searching for a good healer, who wouldn't bother about Draco's reputation, and someone without prejudices, too. It also was risky. The last thing he wanted was trusting someone, who would sell his secret to the reporters. He winced, remembering Skeeter and her damned article about him.

He pressed his palm to his closed eyes. All those thoughts aggravated his dizziness. He was afraid of another fainting fit. He had to lie down. Madam Pomfrey came closer to him slowly, not to startle him, took him by the arm and led him to the nearest bed. She helped him to lie down and summoned a chair to sit next to him.

"I... fainted, because I'm pregnant," he finally confessed after several minutes of silence. His voice was very quiet and he was waiting for her reaction. Actually, he was waiting for some negative reaction, but he wasn't looking at her, so he couldn't tell if she was disgusted with him or not. Did she consider him some kind of a freak now? His quick glance at her made him see that she wasn't disgusted at all. Her eyes looked surprised and interested. At first the mediwitch didn't believe him, but then she decided that there was no point for him to say such things as a joke. He was serious, tense and still a little scared.

"You do want to know, how and why, of course," he continued. "Lucius... My own father did this to me to present me to the Dark Lord and he... He wanted me to be the one to give birth to the Dark Lord's bastard, so he could have had a new body for himself," he almost spat with disgust, but forced himself to calm down. "Fortunately for me, his idea failed. I didn't know anything about it. I had no idea. He was giving me some potions without me knowing and... I found out recently when I've actually got pregnant." This was all the explanations he was willing to give. The mediwitch looked at him with sympathy.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I have morning sickness. Sometimes I can't even look at the food in the morning. Lately I've been feeling a little better, because I've started to take a potion to ease these symptoms, except for the fact that I've just been brought to you after another fainting fit. I've fainted three or four times already. I think I need more rest, but that's probably because I couldn't eat properly for some time and it has weakened me," he mumbled tiredly, not very eager to answer the questions.

"How long have you been pregnant?"

"I'm not sure. More than three months, I believe."

"Will you let me examine you?"

"All right," he sighed.

"Just make yourself comfortable and lie still for a little while. I won't bother you at all," Madam Pomfrey promised. She cast a few spells on him and received the evidence that he was indeed pregnant. After that she cast several more to gain the information about his health and the health of the foetus. She sat down on the chair again once she'd finished.

"You've been with child for about fifteen weeks already. Today is the twenty-first of April. Let's see..." the mediwitch became thoughtful for several moments. "You conceived around the seventh of January," she concluded. "As far as I understand, you're going to keep the child."

"How can you tell?"

"I can see," she smiled slightly.

"Yes," he answered and frowned at himself, because he sounded uncertain. He still was very concerned about carrying a child, giving birth, possible complications, and he still couldn't cope with the very thought that it was happening to him at all. It was still hard to accept even if the decision had been made.

"And you are aware of the risks," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I know it's going to be a hard time for my weak health," Draco mumbled.

"It's true. It's hard to tell how your body is going to adjust to pregnancy. For now it looks quite fine. Even your pelvic bones have changed a little. But your condition already makes your heart work harder, so you have to be careful. I know you have some problems."

"I'm taking potions. Severus has replaced them with less harmful for a child."

"And yet, don't overstrain yourself. Do you have anything else to tell me?"

"I feel pressure on my bladder. It's quite annoying to visit the lavatory so often," he confessed, looking gloomy.

"It's going to change soon. Your uterus will shift up."

"How can you be sure? I'm not a woman and my situation can differ from what you're used to see."

"That's right, but for now it doesn't look different to me," the mediwitch assured. She brought him some potion.

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking at the vial in her hand.

"It will ease your dizziness. You'll feel better," she replied and poured the potion into a measure spoon. He took it and winced at the bitter taste.

"I can't help but ask you about the other father of your child. Does he know?" she asked.

"No. And I'm not going to tell him anything," he frowned, hoping that she wouldn't guess who 'the other father' was after Harry had brought him into the hospital wing himself and after Draco had panicked in front of him. _'And it's none of your concern, by the way,' _he thought, irritated with the uncomfortable question.

"Don't get me wrong; I'm only asking, because you may need some support," Pomfrey explained, trying to make him understand that she wasn't asking out of her nosiness.

"I don't need any support. I'm not a child, who needs to be held by the hand. My godfather is helpful enough, and that's all I need."

"Will you let me help you, too? I'm not only capable of healing bruises and broken bones, you know."

"I would be grateful if you helped me," he said. Pomfrey, obviously, was very interested in his condition. It wasn't something usual after all. She felt privileged that she was trusted with something like this, not to mention that she simply wanted to help the youth.

"I'll try my best," she smiled.

"But I'm going to a take a Wizard's Oath from you. I want to make sure you'll keep my condition secret no matter what, even if my life would depend on telling anyone else. Don't do it without my permission. Don't do anything 'for my own good' without telling me first," the blond said gravely.

"All right," she sighed, understanding that she really had no choice and the youth wouldn't trust her otherwise. So she gave an oath.

"I'm going to find more information about male pregnancy," she said. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Now I want you to have some rest. I release you from today's lessons. And I also want you to stop worrying. It won't do you any good. Now it's not only yourself for you to take care of."

"Yes, I'm aware of this," he nearly frowned. "What about the child? I was taking some harmful potions that could have affected the child too," he said carefully.

"I hope you're not taking them anymore?"

"Of course, not," Draco mumbled with a scowl.

"Everything looks fine with your baby," she soothed him.

"Good... Can I have a rest in my room?"

"Yes. Do you need help to get there?" the mediwitch offered.

"No. I already feel better, thank you."

"All right then. Go. And don't be shy to come here any time, even if you don't find it important, even if you just need to talk. I'll see you later."

"Thank you," he said again. She helped him to get up. Draco put his shoes on and left. Indeed, he felt better and wasn't reeling anymore.

After taking a bath he decided to lie down as he had been recommended, but his attention was drawn by the reflection of his naked body in the mirror. Only now he noticed that his belly had already started to grow. It was hardly noticeable yet, however. He placed his hand on it.

"How am I going to bear you? I'm such a wreck..." he sighed.

The blond got dressed into his pyjamas and lay down into bed. He took the photographs of his mother from the bedside table and started to look through them. He had only taken five from the Manor, and he enjoyed watching them. There was the one where Narcissa was seventeen years old. It was her last day at school and she looked like a princess; she looked happy even with all her usual restraint she'd always showed in public. With Draco she'd been perceptibly softer. But his favourite picture was the one where she was holding little Draco in her arms. He was only several months old. With one hand she was holding the back of his head gently, telling him something, and he was holding the strand of her hair in his tiny hand, listening to her. She looked the most beautiful on this picture. He sighed, putting the pictures back on the bedside table and touched his abdomen again. _'The seventh of January... Did that happen when I..? No, she said that I conceived __**around**__ the seventh of January. However, what difference does it make?' _he thought. But his body reacted at the memory. His hand moved lower and pulled the forming erection out of the silk pants of his pyjamas. He began to stroke himself gently. It had been a long since his body felt any pleasure at all. The memory was arousing...

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><p>Don't follow the link if you're younger than 18 y.o.<p>

http (colon) (double slash) hp. adult fanfiction. net (slash) story. php ? no (equals sign) 600093977 (ampersand) chapter (equals sign) 13

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><p><em>...'No!' <em>he thought furiously, roughly returning himself into reality. It hurt him to remember the things, even the good things, but the things that had been lost forever and it was a strong turn off for him. He hit the pillow in frustration and pulled his pants up, refusing to continue. His erection was fading away without further stimulation.

It seemed so odd to have a part of Harry inside, his flesh and blood, and to know that he would never have him close again. He had to stop tormenting himself. It was unbearable. Why the hell Harry had had to be the one who had brought Draco into the infirmary today (out of pity, obviously)? Certainly, it was another mockery of his destiny. Fortunately for him, he'd fallen asleep soon enough.

It was the end of the lessons for this day. Finding no peace after the morning incident, Harry entered the Potions classroom when Snape had dismissed the students from the second year. Feeling uncomfortable, he approached Snape's desk. The black eyes were studying him for a moment.

"What brings you here, Mr Potter?" the man asked. Harry couldn't help, but feel amused; this man had saved his life many times, had risked his own life for him (for years!), but he was still making Harry's surname sound as some kind of an obscenity.

"Excuse me, professor. I just wanted to ask if Draco was all right," the Gryffindor said quietly.

"I do not discuss my godson's health with strangers," Severus replied impassively.

"But... Please, I need to know." Harry lowered his eyes.

"He's fine now. But I'm not willing to give you any more information about things that are none of your concern."

"I know..."

"Harry!" Ginny entered the classroom, interrupting whatever he'd intended to say. Or, probably, it was for the best, because, in fact, he didn't know what else he could say. "There you are. I was looking for you everywhere. The practice has already begun."

"Yes, sure..." he said. He'd nearly forgotten about the Quidditch practice. Severus was watching him carefully as the Gryffindor was leaving the classroom, and narrowed his eyes. Something felt wrong about Potter. But _**when**_ anything, just anything, had been _**right**_ about _**Potter**_?

When everyone in his dormitory was asleep, Harry couldn't stop thinking about what had happened to Draco in the morning. He worried about the blond and the feeling of guilt didn't let him go. His mind was replaying the images of Draco, lying on the floor, looking dead; the way Harry had been carrying his unconscious body, thinking that the Slytherin had been dying in his arms, the way Draco had been screaming in the hospital wing later, demanding to make Harry leave... The more he was thinking, the more his head hurt. In the morning his head was splitting. It felt like a metal ring around his head that was about to crush it. Every sound caused pain. Ron helped him to get to the infirmary, because Harry could hardly walk, and all his concerned friends followed. Pomfrey gave him a pain-relieving potion after scanning him, and insisted that it was necessary for him to stay in bed for some time and sleep, since the pain could be a result of the sleepless night. His friends were worried and Harry started to get angry. The attention was strangulating. _'Thank God, there's no Molly Weasley here!'_

"Enough! I want to have some rest, if you don't mind!" he growled so loud that everyone flinched, including himself, because his head responded with terrible pain.

"I completely agree. Stop troubling my patient," Pomfrey frowned. Finally Harry was left alone.

_He's entering the Great Hall. The place looks almost drained of the colour and life. And it's empty. His eyes stop on the motionless body, lying on the floor next to the table. He comes closer and kneels. He doesn't have to check, - the blond is dead and his lifeless eyes are opened, directed somewhere into the void that has swallowed his soul some time ago; stolen it to lead it to its final destination or, probably, destroyed it. His skin and clothes are covered with stains of blood, resembling the red, brutally tattered net which enmeshes his body. The contrast of the ashen skin with the red blood is shocking._

_"Draco..." Harry cups the pale face with his trembling hands, refusing to believe that the life has abandoned the blond irretrievably. He's already far away, **too** far away... "Draco, please, no. Please... I'm sorry!" Harry's voice is reverberating in his own ears, filling his head with pain._

He woke up with a gasp. Realising that he'd just seen a nightmare, he relaxed and turned on his other side. He felt Ginny's hand, stroking his hair soothingly and easing some of his pain. He knew her touch; it was always soothing. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again.

The very next day their eyes accidentally met in Potions. Draco looked sick and Harry couldn't ignore it. It was just a moment, but the blond thought he nearly died. He seemed calm and indifferent outwardly, but on the inside he felt as if his own emotions had shredded him into pieces. And there was the sickness... Dizzy and off-balanced he leaned his shoulder against the wall for support. The jar with star anise fruits slipped out of his hands and shattered, hitting the floor. The star-shaped brownish fruits scattered about the floor along with the broken glass. Other students turned their faces to him, attracted by the noise, and Harry got up with the worried look. Severus approached Draco immediately.

"I feel sick," the boy whispered to him.

"Go have some fresh air and return when you feel better," the man said, quietly enough, so only his godson could hear. The blond was about to clean the mess he'd created, but Severus frowned. "Go. I'll take care of it."

Draco was very thankful for this, because he started to feel the aggravating nausea. _'Oh, please, don't do this to me now,'_ he thought, pressing a hand to abdomen and quickly leaving the classroom.

Along with the potion to ease his morning sickness Draco began to use an essential oil of mint. It was very helpful when he felt sick because of food or smells. He just applied several drops on his handkerchief, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply until the nausea abated. He always had the vial in his pocket. Sometimes he even took one drop of it on his tongue and it made him feel better. But very soon he stopped needing it, because the sickness subsided gradually, and it was such a relief. Only the somnolence sometimes bothered him. There were days when he tried his best to focus, but his head felt like it was hardly holding on his neck, so he had to prop it up with his hand, leaning his elbow on the desk. He was forcing himself to listen and to write down the lectures, but his beautiful handwriting time and again turned into something like the electrocardiography of the dying man (if he knew that such things existed in the Muggle World, he would have found the comparison very suitable). Once he even fell asleep when he was practicing the potion-brewing with Severus. The man had a strong feeling of déjà vu. He had already seen this head resting on his desk in deep sleep while he'd been brewing. The only difference was that his prince had been much smaller back then and that scene had taken place in his own house.

However, the frequent drowsiness wasn't an excuse for Draco to idle about. The N.E.W.T.s were not far off already, and he intended to pass them no matter what, so, despite of his state, he was studying. Most people already knew that he was assiduous and gifted in most subjects. In past years there were people that had used to think that Lucius had been 'buying' Draco's good marks, but they'd been wrong. Although, he didn't care about their opinion and didn't have to prove them anything, it was important for his self-appraisal. Meanwhile, the rumour had it that he was seriously ill, and the illness was fatal. They even said that he wouldn't live till the end of the school year. Not that people were discussing it a lot, but Draco overheard it in the library and had a strong wish to strangle the one who had set the ridiculous rumour afloat. On the other hand, he gave it up as lost and decided to ignore it as something that wasn't worth his attention.

At least, there was something unexpected that made Draco's mood better in the chain of the days that felt boring and were all the same, - he received a letter:

_'Hello, Draco!_

_I've heard about your return at Hogwarts. I myself decided to go to Durmstrang, as far as possible from all the mess. I thought it would be hard for me, because I didn't know anyone here, but I've made friends with two boys from my year, so it's not really that bad. I was planning to write you sooner, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I just didn't want to be a reminder of what happened to you. I saw Skeeter's article and I know about the way The Ministry treats you because of your surname. I'm glad you have professor Snape by your side. Give him my regards. _

_When I found out about what they did to you, I ran away. My relative, who wasn't involved into this Death Eaters' story, sheltered me in the other country. Every day I expected them to come for me, but it never happened. I thought you were dead, I was told you were, and when I saw that article, I didn't know if I should cry or laugh. I hope you feel better now and I also hope you can speak again._

_I believe it's all hard for you. I just want you to know, if you need a friend, you have one. After all, you're a prince, no matter what they say, and I'm still your retinue, and a friend, I hope. _

_Best wishes,_

_Gregory Goyle.'_

At first, Draco couldn't help, but smile, but then he started to doubt. Was it some kind of a trap? He was so tired of disappointments... However, what harm would it do if he just wrote back? He wasn't going to write about his secrets anyway. Goyle's owl was sitting on his desk while he was thinking over the reply. The bird was watching Viperion with some interest, but then it got bored and dozed off, tired of waiting.

_'Hello, Gregory!_

_You have no idea how inspirational your letter was. I would send you a huge sack of biscuits and cakes, and, I swear, I will, just say a word if you still have a predilection for such things. _

_I'm glad that you're doing well. I'm also relieved to know that you escaped, remained human and didn't share my fate. At least, my example was edifying to make you think about yourself. _

_I wish I could write you that I'm fine, but I'm not. Too bad for me, you're in Durmstrang. I wish you were here with me this year, but you've made the right decision to stay away. I'm an outcast here, and if not Severus and some circumstances, I'm sure I would have already been lynched. This school year has been extremely arduous. The trust was something that really failed me. You may call me paranoid, but I was examining your letter, for the purpose of revealing curses or poisons, for no less than ten minutes before reading it. What of my muteness, it has passed, fortunately. _

_I'm sorry that I can't write you more, but I hope you'll write back as soon as you can, and give me a detailed account of the way your life has changed. I want to learn more about Durmstrang, local people, including your friends; and especially about you. I bet you've changed a lot._

_Without wishing to be a whiner, I'm not all right, Gregory. _

_Sincerely,_

_Draco.'_

The blond tied his letter to the owl's leg, waking the bird up in the process, and let it go. If all of it wasn't a trap, it would be such a relief.


	14. 13 Quiet resignation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

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><p>To<span>Halloween265<span>: Thanks a lot! Very soon you'll get all the answers ;).

To lostsouloftheunderworld: Thank you! I hope you won't change your mind about Snape after the next chapter ;). I'm glad you reviewed :).

To Lilyth: It's, indeed, worse than any love potion. Thank you :).

To Rapunzelle, kitty tokyo uzumaki, Sun, Psychosocial, Yamiga, Aquarinus, Arcania: thanks so much for your nice comments! Enjoy!

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><p><em><strong>13. Quiet resignation<strong>_

Lips... Soft and caressing, they were touching his face. He opened his eyes and saw the incredible grey eyes right in front of him. They were smiling at him, seducing him with something inexplicable, unfathomable, that no one would ever be able to put into words. He'd missed them so much... It wasn't a thought, just a feeling. His fingertips touched this perfect mouth and it kissed them.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispered.

"I love you, Harry." The voice was shockingly alien. He gasped and roughly pushed away whomever he'd been holding in his arms.

"Ginny..." he said quietly without knowing why he had pushed her like that. She was staring at him in shock. No... No grey eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked. He shook his head and stormed out of the common room, moving past Ron and Hermione. His head was in complete mess and it started to hurt. He was walking fast without knowing where exactly he was going. Harry only stopped in front of the wall, hardly understanding where he was. The window was to the right of him. Air... He needed air. Sitting down on the windowsill, he opened the window and inhaled deeply. The air was cold and that was exactly what he wanted. Why was he feeling so empty? The headache intensified and tears welled up in his eyes. He heard the approaching steps, but his head was buried in his hands, so he didn't look. The feeling of comforting touch on his shoulder left him absolutely impassive.

"Talk to me." A familiar voice. Hermione... She sat down on the windowsill next to him.

"What do you want me to say?" he replied after a minute of silence.

"I want to understand what's happening to you. I hardly recognize you sometimes."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't meet your expectations," Harry chuckled coldly.

"It's not about that," she frowned. "We worry about you; Ron, Ginny and I. Sometimes you become so distant and irritable. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Yes. You could leave me alone, for example. I'm tired of this! Don't you understand that sometimes... people need some time to be alone? Am I asking too much? I'm tired... I'm tired that you all look over my shoulder, tired of your concerns about me. Just... mind your own business, please."

"You're not fair. Look... The forthcoming N.E.W.T.s..." She wasn't given a chance to finish, because Harry exploded with anger.

"I don't fucking care about the N.E.W.T.s! I could pass them without saying or writing a word, because I'm Harry fucking Potter! And you know it, so don't make a fool of yourself, because you're not!"

"Then what? ! What troubles you?"

"I don't know what you want from me!"

"I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, but I don't know what you want to hear. I just need time to be alone; I've just told you, but you're not listening to me!" he growled. For a moment she was taken aback. Harry looked as if he was about to hit her, though she would never believe that he'd do anything like that. But he'd changed lately...

"I'll go. Please, talk to someone else if you refuse to talk to me. Please, Harry. You're not yourself," she shook her head and left. Now he felt drained of emotions, so her worries hadn't touched anything in his soul.

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><p>Harry hadn't apologized for his outburst, though he wasn't feeling good about it later. He just started to spend more time with his friends not to upset them. It wasn't even about his feelings towards them, because he was rather apathetic, it was a question of moral - not to hurt people, more likely, or a habit. Even if he was distant sometimes, he was still with them, so they had nothing to cavil at. He faked his smiles, feigned interest when they were talking. He trained his eyes to stop searching for Draco. He just couldn't look at him anymore, not only because it was pointless, but also because of the strange feeling of unreality that threatened to consume him. <em>'Pathetic coward,'<em> the inner voice mocked him, but was ignored. His friends were there for him, Ginny was with him. He forgot everything in her arms, including himself. Nothing else could make him feel right, though even then there were the embers of pain deep inside of him. But that was his reality and he had to accept it as it was.

* * *

><p>Severus was restless and furious. In the morning he had received a letter from the Ministry. For many months Severus had fought for reducing Draco's term of suspended sentence. Not only his appeals against the decisions of the Ministry were dismissed, but one particular prosecutor demanded the review of Draco's case and his imprisonment! Cole Ledgister was known for his ruthlessness and cruelty, and his voice was weighty. At his instigation some people had not only been sentenced to Azkaban, but to the Dementor's Kiss, even when the imprisonment would have been a sufficient punishment. The death sentence hardly threatened Draco, but the imprisonment was very possible. Ledgister had also been far from being a law-abiding person during his long career, Severus was sure about it. There was no evidence, the man was careful enough, but there were rumours that some people appealed to him to get rid of their enemies 'with the help of the law'; for a good price, of course. It was one of those cases when everyone knew or, at least, suspected everything, but preferred to keep silence, not to get into trouble, especially having no evidences.<p>

That man had taken part in the first Draco's hearing and hadn't been satisfied with the decision. Very likely, he'd been bribed by Lucius' personal enemies or victims. Why else such an excessive zeal? Draco had to pay again... The date of the new hearing had yet to be confirmed. Severus was tired of this circus. Draco wouldn't be able to come through this again, especially in his condition and especially when there was a possibility of being sent to Azkaban. Pregnant and in a poor state of health he wouldn't have a chance to survive there. Severus wasn't about to tell his godson about the letter. It would be too much for the boy. No, Severus would fight for him with his mind, magic and fists, if necessary, but he wouldn't let them take him away.

Calmed down and composed he was sitting at his desk, thinking of his options. He had to get help and he knew where to look for it. Why would he soil his hands in it when there were others, who deserved a chance to take vengeance?

* * *

><p>Two pairs of identically brown eyes were looking at him in surprise when he had knocked at the door and those who lived there had opened it. His two ex-students, brother and sister, hadn't been hard to find, since they were still living in the house of their parents.<p>

"Professor? Come in," the man invited. They all sat down in the living room.

"Do you want some tea?" the young woman offered.

"No, thank you," Severus refused. "My apology for coming without a notice, but I don't have much time, I'm afraid. I'm here for business, so I'll go straight to the point. Cole Ledgister."

"What about him?" the woman frowned, waving the house elf, waiting for the orders, away.

"Let's just say, he has been giving me a lot of trouble lately."

"That bastard condemned our father to death. Father wasn't saint, but he never did anything that he was accused of," she said with pained expression.

"That's why I'm here. As far as I know, you tried to accuse Ledgister of bribery."

"Yes. We were threatened, so we gave it up. And we didn't have enough evidences, anyway. He's a sly dog," the man said.

"And he also possesses an official immunity," Severus said, nodding knowingly. "I need information. I need names of the people that, in your opinion, were sentenced to death unfairly. I'm sure you were making your own investigation." He was sure they knew a lot about the prosecutor and his victims; all the more so, they both worked in the Ministry and could find an access to the documents they required.

"With all respect, professor, we can't be involved in this again. We don't want to lose our jobs," the woman shook her head.

"This is not going to happen, you have my promise. By no means will your names figure in this," Severus promised.

After a long talk, they finally agreed, and two days later Severus received a letter with a lot of information about those, who supposedly had been sentenced to death unfairly (the number of names was impressive and there were small photographs next to each name) and about the prosecutor himself. Exactly what he needed. When he finished studying the information, he put the papers aside and looked at Draco, who was napping peacefully in the armchair with his head tilting on the side. The book lay on his lap opened and his hand was resting on his stomach. Severus put the book on his desk. Carefully and slowly, not to wake up Draco, he transfigured the armchair, so its back reclined back and the boy was almost lying now. He shifted slightly in his sleep to adjust to the new position and seemed to feel more comfortable now. A small, sleepy and thankful smile appeared on his face for a moment, though his eyes remained closed. Severus covered him with the warm woollen blanket and left. He had things to do...

* * *

><p>He wasn't a necromancer, he knew better than to disturb the peace of the deceased. Such things always had a price to pay. Unless... Unless the deceased were restless and sought retribution. For example, the innocent murder victims. The large and old cemetery, closed for almost a century already, was a perfect place for what he intended to do. It took Severus an hour to draw all the complicated magical symbols on the ground around him, using the ink, which was made according to the special recipe. It took him even more than two hours to read the long incantation from the book and to call the particular names, visualizing each person in his mind. He had the list of names and photographs with him, so it wasn't very difficult. By the end of a ritual he felt that the night air around him grew colder and smelled like an air before the thunderstorm. A mist covered the graveyard, but he saw <strong><em>them<em>**. They had responded to his summons; perhaps, a half of those, who were in the list, were now there. Ugly and deformed ghosts were floating around him. Some of them had twisted 'limbs', some looked asymmetric, for example, with one 'arm' longer than the other, their 'faces' were contorted or twisted; the 'eyes' and the areas around them were just the dark voids. Some ghosts were hardly visible at all. Not many looked like normal ghosts, but even they still had defects.

The Dementor's Kiss maimed the very soul of the person. Some souls stopped existing at all, but the strong ones were damned; they wondered and suffered without finding peace. Their ability to think and remember was taken away, but not completely.

Their whispers were everywhere around Severus, but he couldn't understand them. Although they looked very displeased, he knew they couldn't hurt him. He was in charge.

"What do you want?" someone half-whispered, half-growled. The voice was right in his head, but somehow he knew where it was coming from. He turned to the ghost of the woman and showed her a photograph of Ledgister. She jerked away, shrieked like a mad banshee and started to rush about with the great speed, startling all the others. Severus was watching impassively at the white, shrieking and howling storm of fury around him. He'd known, they would remember the man on the photograph, the man, responsible for their sufferings. They nearly deafened Severus, but the disturbances calmed down several minutes later.

"I know what you wish for, but you will do it in my terms," he said. They moved closer. Some tried to cling to him in attempt of feeling the warmth of the living human, who summoned them, and whose soul was whole in contrast with theirs. He attached them to himself with the spell and gave them some power. After that he directed them and let them go, so they left him alone. The mist had cleared away gradually. It was almost the end of the night already and Severus wondered if he would be able to get back to school. He was tired as hell; tired physically, mentally and drained of his magic. He needed a good rest. However, he spared no time to destroy all evidence that such ritual had taken place, and pedantically removed the traces of his own magic, in case someone would investigate. It seemed it had exhausted him completely.

His plan wasn't perfect, but it was good enough, so no one would ever guess about his participation. There was still a possibility that Ledgister would find the help of those, who could save him from the chase of the ghosts (of course, if he figured out that they were ghosts and not the insanity), but on the other hand, the old moron valued his reputation too much. He wouldn't try to lay his hands on himself out of fear either, because he was too concerned for his own skin. The death because of the heart attack or some accident wasn't ruled out, however. The ghosts wouldn't kill him premeditatedly; it was one of Severus' conditions. Now he could only wait for the results.

* * *

><p>It was two days already, since Ledgister had started to see them. They were looking at him through the windows from the outside of his big, rich house. At first, they scared the hell out of him, but then he tried to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him. After all, his wife didn't notice anything strange. He had ordered the house elves to close all the curtains in the house. But that wasn't helpful - they started to emerge their ugly faces from behind the curtains, making him freeze in horror and pull his blankets up to his chin every night. He couldn't sleep, but he was still in denial.<p>

And then Ledgister started to see them in the mirrors. No one else could see them, though. Frustrated, he broke every single mirror in the house, and then he ordered to board up every window, without knowing that his fears and doubts were nourishing **_their_** powers. They were becoming stronger and stronger.

When he was taking a bath, the water appeared to be blood. He could even smell it, so he jumped out of it in horror. He closed his eyes and prayed the gods to make it stop. When he opened them, everything seemed normal. Just water. He convinced himself, that he was just tired and stressed. The very next day, however, it happened again. He was sitting in a bath full of blood. He tried not to pay attention, knowing that it wasn't real, but then he suddenly saw a human figure which came to the surface from under the water (or blood). It was sitting in front of him, pressing its back against the side of the bath, mirroring the man's pose. And it resembled inferius very much. The man's heart nearly stopped, he yelled in horror and jumped out of the bath. He slipped on the wet floor and fell, hitting the floor hard. He knew he had broken his leg, so he couldn't run. But he could still crawl. He could hear the wet footsteps behind, but couldn't bring himself to look back. His wife had heard him screaming and now was running down from the second floor. The delusion was gone, once she reached him.

No, Ledgister didn't want any help, he didn't want to be locked up in St. Mungo's; he knew he would end up there if he told anyone. His work, his career would be destroyed. He had thought that something had happened to their house, but no, he was seeing it even at work. When he once opened the drawer of his desk, he saw an ugly face staring at him. His angry yell scared the client away. And then he saw his wife looking at her reflection in the small mirror. He'd forbidden having any mirrors in the house! Ledgister hit her face hard. Terrified, she packed her bags and moved to their daughter's house. But she didn't see anything strange, except her husband going mad. How couldn't she see? They were everywhere! They were even lying in their bed!

No, they never stopped harassing him. He saw their faces everywhere. They were whispering all the time. At first, he couldn't understand them, but then the voices became clearer. It felt like he could hear them right in his mind. He was going insane.

"Do you remember me?"

"I was innocent..."

"Tell them the truth."

"Not guilty! No!"

"Do you remember my name?"

"You have to pay."

His hair was now completely grey, he couldn't eat, he could hardly sleep and he now was looking just a little better than the ghosts or inferi that harassed him, even though not deformed. He still couldn't decide if they were ghosts or inferi. They now seemed something in between, but he knew exactly who they were. They were constantly reminding him about who they'd been when they had been alive. At work everyone avoided him; he was forced to take a holiday. And then his entire house was in blood: bloody footprints, puddles on the floor; it was dripping down the ceilings, running down the walls. The smell of blood was everywhere and he could taste it in his mouth. Oh, he gave them so much power! It was getting worse and worse. He was feeling like he was pulled into the other world where was no place for the living. They were walking about his house freely, followed him and they never stopped talking and whispering, giving him a terrible migraine. Everything in his house looked shabby and dirty as if it hadn't been cleaned for years. And the blood...

Three weeks later after all of it had begun, he was a complete wreck. Sitting on the bed and rocking himself back and forth with empty eyes, he could hardly pay attention to what was happening around, but he heard the voice, simultaneously in his head and near his ear:

"Do you remember what you told me: 'An open-hearted confession will unburden your soul'?" the voice whispered. Ledgister nodded, still looking into the emptiness.

* * *

><p>Severus didn't even have to bother to check, because three weeks later after his ritual, all wizarding papers informed about the scandal. Ledgister had confessed in bribe-taking, confessed that the evidences in many cases, where he had been involved, were fabricated, that many innocent people were rotting in Azkaban or had been sentenced to death when the real criminals had bought their freedom. No, most of his cases weren't fabricated, but for many years of his career there had been enough official malfeasances to sentence <strong><em>him<em>** to death and to arrest his staff. Papers also informed that he had gone crazy because of his guilty conscience and all his influence and immunity hadn't saved him.

Everything was just as Severus had planned. Now it was a good time to write another letter to the Ministry. He insisted that Draco was just another victim of the mad and corrupt prosecutor and that the boy deserved the indulgence for all the arbitrary decisions.

When the very next day he was summoned to the minister himself, he hoped that it was about his application, even if it seemed quite unusual. He entered the luxury office and saw the minister, sitting at his desk. Marcus Swanheart, the middle-aged man was looking quite young for his age and position. Severus had no idea how this man had been appointed to this position at all. A good election campaign, doubtlessly.

"Good morning, Mr Snape! I'm glad to inform you that you're going to be awarded with The Order of Merlin for your services during the war. The ceremony will take place this Friday, at six. And..." the man announced in a stately manner, but was interrupted.

"And I am glad to inform you that I'm not interested," Severus said unemotionally. He quickly analyzed the situation and the person in front of him. It would be stupid of him not to use such auspicious opportunity. Several workers were right there in the office. The foreign politicians were in the inner room of the office, the door was opened and he could hear the foreign speech. Not only his plans concerning Ledgister had succeeded, but he had a chance to make things even better.

"But..." The minister was confused. He hadn't expected that. The other people in the office were confused as well.

"First, I'm a private man and your pompous tea-parties do not sound thrilling to me. Second, your Ministry employees treat my godson like a scum. Should I also remind you about Skeeter's source, which appeared to be a very good friend of yours? Not very good anymore, hopefully." He wasn't talking too loud yet, not to draw the attention of the foreign guests in the inner room. It was too early for this. "And then my godson was thrown to the ill-famed corrupt prosecutor, a pathetic excuse for a man, who would have gladly put my child to rot in Azkaban. My demands for the indulgence were ignored. And yet, **_you have the insolence_** to expect me to come for some stupid trinket and shake hands with idiots when they remain deaf to such glaring injustice towards my family. In such circumstances your invitation sounds like an insult, no less. You can keep your order to yourself. Goodbye." With his last words he turned to leave.

"Wait! We can discuss it," Swanheart stopped him. Severus stopped and half-turned to him. _'So predictable.'_

"Make it quick. I don't have much time," he said.

"I'll do what I can for your godson, but..."

"But what? Your excuses are going to be oriented on fools, I presume? You're the minister, in case you forgot; unless your electors have made a big mistake," he said sarcastically. One of the workers couldn't help but chuckle quietly, though coughed then and tried his best to keep the blank expression on his face. Some others tried their best to hold back the same reaction. The minister started to seethe; his face was red with embarrassment. He had to remind himself that he was talking to the respected war hero. He couldn't help but feel like a scolded child. No one talked to him in such manner! He was the minister, for Merlin's sake! And the man was undermining his authority right in front of his employees. On the other hand, the man was protecting someone he loved and was mad at the Ministry. Perhaps, his anger was fair. Swanheart also didn't want any scandals in his office, especially now that he had to produce a good impression on his foreign guests. He hoped they hadn't heard any of it. Meanwhile, Severus continued:

"I'm sure, placing your sign and a seal on the couple of papers won't take much effort from you. If the full pardon is impossible, for some reason, my godson has to be, at least, exempted from the humiliating interrogations that take place every month and do not make any sense. Tracking spells should be removed as well. This would be a good start."

Swanheart looked through the summoned Draco's files for several minutes and then nodded.

"The Ministry can place him under your guardianship, so he and his actions will be your responsibility during his term of suspension. No interrogations, no tracking spells. Usually we don't do it for the persons of the full legal age, but in some cases we can make exceptions," he offered.

"Good option," Severus agreed.

* * *

><p>After returning from the ceremony Friday evening, Severus watched with amusement as his prince was happily overeating himself with apples, reading the book on magical gemstones and methods of enchanting them for different purposes. He had always had a weakness for apples, but lately he had really fallen on yellow, sweet, juicy fruits, and the elves of the castle were happy to provide him with anything he liked. Knowing that he was with child, not only they satisfied all his whims about the food, but they also kept his secret. After all, it was their duty to take care about the inhabitants of the castle, especially someone so vulnerable, who needed it most, and someone, who shouldn't worry about anything at all. They wouldn't tell anyone, even the headmistress, because this would upset young sir and his baby.<p>

Draco started to look better. Dark circles around his eyes almost disappeared, his hair was again shiny and healthy, his skin was normally pale for him. He was no longer skin and bones and looked like several months ago before Harry had left him, before Draco's pregnancy, with the exception of his nicely rounding out belly. It was still small and wasn't really obvious when he was fully clothed. Good changes were definitely the result of his improved appetite and good sleep; and his morning sickness was long gone.

"You're early," the boy said. "How was the ceremony? Oh, don't tell me. Let me guess; you've listened to the minister's boring speech, mentally criticizing his every word, took the order and just left with the spectacular billowing of your robes behind you, vouchsafing no glance to the Ministry fools or annoying reporters," Draco chuckled. It was just a good-natured banter.

"Exaggeration, but quite close," Severus replied. He sat at his desk and opened the book. Draco became more serious.

"I received a letter this morning. A letter from the Ministry. They exempted me from interrogations and tracking. I'm under your surveillance now," he said, watching the man carefully.

"I'm glad for you," Severus said without tearing himself away from reading.

"Oh, come on! I know you since the first day of my life," the boy chuckled.

"Since the third day," the man corrected.

"It doesn't matter. Just tell me how you did it."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course," Draco smirked. "Thank you," he added seriously.

"You're welcome."

They were reading for about an hour. The blond had another question and couldn't bring himself to ask. Severus finally looked at him to encourage Draco to say whatever he wanted to say.

"Speak already," he sighed.

"Harry was there, on the ceremony, wasn't he?" the blond asked. Severus noticed the pained expression.

"Of course, he was. As far as I know, he left shortly before me, after receiving his order. He refused to stay for the celebration."

"I see..."

* * *

><p>Another week passed and the N.E.W.T.s started. Draco was pacing the room, reading aloud the book on History of Magic, preparing himself for the first exam.<p>

"Draco, my head is going round. Stop worrying," Severus said.

"I can't. I must concentrate. Merlin, what if I fail?" the blond replied nervously.

"I doubt that."

"Would you please check me? Ask me anything."

"Close your book then," the man sighed. It was a hard time for him as a teacher too.

* * *

><p>Draco had an outstanding result for the first exam and left the classroom in high spirits, but it didn't last. He was unlucky enough to stumble on Harry and his girlfriend in the corridor, and his features darkened. They were kissing... Apparently, it was her way to congratulate Harry on his successfully passed exam. The brunet wasn't noticing Draco with his back turned on him, but Ginny caught the sight of the blond. Her blue eyes opened and were now looking at Draco; she didn't break the kiss, though. Draco saw something in her eyes and immediately realised what it was... <strong><em>The triumph<em>**. She was glad that he was seeing it! Had Harry told her about what they had had? Then it meant Draco was probably a laughingstock among Harry's and Weasley's friends, on top of everything. _'Most likely, you told her everything about us. I doubt that you have secrets from each other...'_ By the look of her eyes he could tell that she was aware that she was literally dancing on his bones right now. He wondered if his face betrayed the hurt. Why did she even bother to gloat? She had won long ago, long before he and Harry had had... something.

He quickly left them alone, just walked away with the pain in his chest. Harry was hers. She was the only one for him. And Draco had been nothing at all. Nonentity... _'Harry, I hate you. I hate you so much. You keep hurting me with your very existence.'_

* * *

><p>The blond Slytherin passed all the exams with the very good results, but his mood was terrible. He refused to go to the school-leaving party (not that he'd planned to go there at all) and isolated himself in his room. But some time later the elf of the castle appeared before him.<p>

"Young sir, the headmistress insists you to be there," he said.

"I can't," Draco shook his head.

"If you refuse to celebrate, she says, you should be there to take pictures. Such day is only once in a sir's lifetime," the small creature said, looking at him pleadingly. Draco sighed and promised to be there soon. He got dressed in seemly clothes: the white shirt, the Slytherin's tie, and the dark-grey waistcoat, trousers and long robes. He closed the robes in the front to hide his belly as he had been usually doing lately.

He only took part in the photo call and he was quite distinguished among the plenty of smiling faces, - his face was far from being joyful.

Harry was watching him, realising that it was probably the last time he was seeing him. _'Beautiful, still a prince, no matter what. I wish you good luck and happiness, Draco. You deserve it...'_ he thought. The blond left soon enough when the pictures had been taken. Suddenly Harry wasn't in the mood for celebration. He wanted to run away and stay alone far from the noise. His mind now was in a haze. He wanted to feel anything, he knew he had to feel something right now, but he couldn't. In the beginning of the school year he had known that it would be very hard for him to leave Hogwarts, but now he couldn't decide what exactly he was feeling. He hated this indeterminacy of his emotions. Recently he had this feeling, concerning almost everything.

The next morning Draco was following Harry with his eyes, watching him through the window in the corridor of the second floor. Harry was leaving the school along with his friends forever. The brunet was talking about something with Weasleys and Granger. They all were in a good mood. _'Please, turn around. Please, look at me one last time. Please...'_ But it never happened. And now Draco really felt that he was left behind. If he'd had some very faint hope before, a hope, for which he'd always scolded himself in his thoughts, hardy realising that it had really been there at all; now it was really gone. Everything was over. Harry was leaving... The blond put his hand on his rounding out belly, already quite noticeable, and closed his eyes not to let his tears escape. His heart hurt in every sense of the word. How could it break even more when it had already been broken? He took the potion out of his pocket to ease the pain. When he looked through the window again, Harry was already nowhere to be seen. There were only the small groups of the students that had already started to leave too. For the moment he was on the verge of running after Harry, throwing his arms around his neck and begging him to stay or even telling him that he was carrying his child. But he would only make a fool of himself. Yes, he could use it and he could play upon the goddamned Gryffindorish nobility. Harry would hardly repudiate his child. But no, that would be stupid. If he stayed with Draco, in this case, he would stay out of pity and sense of duty. That would be humiliating. Draco didn't need the charity and pathetic leavings! Perhaps, Harry would even be mad at him for ruining his plans or would even think that everything had been set up. Not likely, but... No, it wasn't even worth thinking. _'I'd never debase myself like that,'_ he thought. No, he wouldn't stoop to such things. The next moment he was angry. How could Harry walk away so easily, leaving all the emotional and physical burden on Draco? But this feeling quickly left him too. There was only emptiness and unbearable loneliness.

"Goodbye forever, the-boy-who's-never-loved-me," he said quietly. He heard some strange sounds and not immediately he realised that he was hearing his own heartbroken sobs, escaping unchecked between his trembling lips. The traitorous tears... Why did it still hurt so badly?

He headed to his room just to hide there. The tears clouded his eyesight over. He was thinking on the way, walking slowly. _'Some people live alone for all their lives, without their so-called 'better halves'. Severus seems to be quite all right with it. I'm probably destined to be alone. It's better than giving myself to just anyone. I'm hard to get on with, anyway. Harry is going to have a new life. I was an adventure, an experiment, perhaps. What was I thinking? It was stupid. I'm alone...'_ Suddenly something happened that convinced him that he wasn't quite alone. It startled him and made him stop. A movement inside of him. During this week he had been feeling something like this from time to time. The movements. But they had been so faint that it was hard to tell for sure. And now it was stronger. Not a kick yet, but still tangible. It was logical, since he was already twenty weeks pregnant.

Instead of his own room, he came to Severus'. He sat down in the armchair and slightly rubbed his palms against each other with the faraway look of his eyes. The man didn't have to ask what was wrong and why his godson's eyelids were red. For some time Draco was silent and thoughtful, but then he couldn't help but start talking.

"He's just left. It felt like I've lost him for the second time. I was just a fool... I was dreaming about the impossible. I promised myself not to, but..." he said, holding back tears. The corners of his lips sank down because of his efforts. The older man didn't know what to say. Anything he said wouldn't be helpful in this situation. It wasn't a good time for the words. He just approached Draco from behind and put his hand on the shoulder of the slightly shaking boy. There was another small movement below the broken heart.


	15. 14 Settling down

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

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><p>To <span>kitty tokyo uzumaki<span>: Here it is! Thank you :)

To Lilyth: Thanks for reviewing!

To DeadRose: Indeed, she did. I started to explain it in the beginning of the chapter, called "Potion-making". And everything will be clear about it, eventually. Thanks :).

To Battery: Thanks for your comment!

To Psychosocial: Here! I hope you're going to enjoy the next one as well :). Thank you.

To Sun: Thanks a lot!

To Merry: Thanks! ;)

To Aquarinus: Thank you! I, too, can not imagine his life without something this dark :)

To AcadianProud: Not quite. It's about both Draco and Harry. So far, Harry's life with Ginny has been quite uneventful, almost happy I'd say, so there weren't many things to write about him, whereas Draco had a lot of things on his plate. But Harry's going to have all the attention sooner than you think ;). Thanks!

To Darloudasha: This story is going to be finished, this I promise :). Thank you so much :).

To Yamiga: Thank you! Here's the next one.

To lostsouloftheunderworld: I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks :).

To Sunshine: Thank you :). Please, enjoy!

To Arcania: Arcania writes:"Snape is a sweetie! Covers Draco with warm blankie and goes to perform the horrendous dark ritual to make someone nutters Epic!" I had to quote you, because your review made me laugh hard :). Yes, this is exactly what he did. Thank you!

To sara: Thanks a lot!

To shyn61: Thanks for your review!

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><p><em><strong>14. Settling down<strong>_

Draco still had to get used to the small movements inside of him. Sometimes they were a little too unexpected. They weren't frequent yet, however, and they were weak. But it also made him very aware of the life right inside of him, as he could now feel it, not only know of its existence theoretically. He knew he already loved his child. _'Maybe you're going to love me, too, so I won't need anything or anyone else at all. We have each other. I ought to think more about you and me, and not to waste my time, thinking about the person who betrayed me. I wish I was stronger for you,'_ he thought, touching his belly fondly.

Teachers usually left Hogwarts later than the students, so Draco had to stay at school a little longer with Severus.

"I have some news. I've sold all my immovable property and have purchased an estate. It's not very big, but it's quite worthy, in my opinion. Fresh air, no close neighbourhood. Just what we both..." Severus interrupted himself and cast a glance over Draco's belly, "..._**three**_ of us need, I assume," he corrected himself. Draco smiled. He found it nice that his child was already taken into account.

"Great news. I was... a little anxious about asking if I may continue living with you. Even if I get the Manor back, I'm not sure if I could live there. And I'm certainly not sure the place is good for a child. I won't feel... comfortable there." Gods, the Manor was tainted and defiled by many murders of innocent people and by the filthiest magic. What kind of person would bring a child there?

"I'm rather surprised that you had doubts. And Draco, happy birthday," the man said, giving him some box. Of course, it was the fifth of June! He wondered how he could forget about his own birthday. Draco was nineteen... He opened the box and found two books about pregnancy. The smaller one was about the male pregnancy. He wondered where Severus had found such a rare thing. That was really useful. The fifth month of Draco's pregnancy had almost begun; he was, in fact, more than halfway through pregnancy, and he still wasn't well-informed about some forthcoming things.

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><p>Two days later it was their time to leave. When all the bags were packed, Draco cast the last glance at his room that wasn't actually his anymore. He wasn't very unhappy about leaving. Many consequential events had taken place in this room, good and bad (bad things had overshadowed most of the good things, if truth be told), but it was just another thing he had to try to leave behind. The apparition wasn't quite comfortable for Draco. And he was sure that his baby wasn't happy about it, too, starting to move, so Draco could feel the child's displeasure somehow. Once they entered the house, the blond looked around. The house was spacious. But it was cold, despite of the summer (which was rainy and not quite warm yet), and Severus had yet to take care about it, casting the appropriate spells, but for now he set the fire in the fireplace of the large living room and placed the armchair in front of it.<p>

"Here. Take a seat. I have a few things to do, and after that we'll have a dinner," the man said. Draco nodded and sank into a chair, which made him feel much more comfortable.

Plunged in his thoughts, he wasn't aware that he wasn't alone in the room, and when he noticed the small creature, watching him carefully, he flinched slightly. The house elf...

"Florie asks her forgiveness. She wanted to see her young master; she didn't mean to scare him. Florie serves the dinner in ten minutes," the elf said, still looking at him inquisitively.

"Good. I'm hungry. We'll be in the dining room, once Severus is done with the wards," Draco replied.

"Florie doesn't want to be curious, but is the young master expecting?" she asked, looking confused, because he was actually a young _**man**_, so she wasn't sure if her magical senses weren't deceiving her.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Oh, wonderful!" she squeaked happily. "Children of Florie's previous masters are being long grown-ups. The house misses children's presence."

"This is a secret, do you understand?"

"Of course, young master. Florie can hold her tongue."

"Could you get me an apple, Florie?"

"Yes, sir," she bowed. When the small creature disappeared, Draco saw an owl outside the window. He recognised the bird - it was Goyle's. He let her in and untied the envelope from her leg. In his letter Gregory congratulated him on his graduation. They'd been in correspondence with each other for some time already and Draco had finally stopped calling him 'a former friend' in his thoughts. Even if they hadn't seen each other for a long time and it was rather doubtful that they would see each other any time soon, those letters always made his mood better. While he was waiting for Severus to have a dinner together, he had some time to write back.

Severus was busy, casting the sustained warming spells on the house and strong protective wards around it. He was nearly drained when he'd finished, and he had yet to strengthen the wards, but decided to leave it for another day.

After dinner Draco was walking about the house. It wasn't bad at all! Most rooms were large. The house was probably very old, but it had been taken care of, so there was no shabbiness: no ramshackle furniture, no cracks on the walls and ceilings, no dust. Everything was in a good state. Draco was given four rooms at his disposal. That was almost half of the rooms on the second floor. One of them he made his bedroom and there was a door to the bathroom, the other one made a comfortable study. The third one became some kind of his private sitting room with the balcony where were a lot of flowerpots with different ornamental plants, but there still was some free space. And the fourth one... Well, he intended to make it a nursery later. He still had things to purchase. Couple of weeks later he really started to feel that he was at home. Finally... Fresh air and calmness.

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><p>For Draco everything was mostly fine, but Severus sometimes had to endure the boy's mercurial mood as patiently as he could. Draco had given the man a hard time when couple of times he'd been crying for hours because of... well, because of nothing. The only explanation Severus had forced out of him was that his godson was afraid to lose everything he had now. The older man had only sighed at this. And then, all of a sudden, everything had been back to normal.<p>

The blond knocked at the door of the potions laboratory, knowing that his godfather had been brewing something for almost four hours already, but Draco got bored to be alone.

"Draco, don't come in," the man replied without opening the door.

"Why?" the blond asked, still standing at the door, but frowned at himself, because he knew the answer very well.

"I'm brewing one special potion. The fumes are quite toxic," the irritated voice replied. Seriously, they had already discussed it and Severus forbade the boy to brew anything at all and to breathe in any fumes that could be harmful for him and his child.

"I just wanted to offer you a chess game."

"I can take a break in fifteen minutes," the man promised. But when almost twenty minutes later he entered the living room, he found the boy curled up on the canapé and was told that Draco wasn't in the mood for the game anymore. Severus gritted his teeth, leaving the sulky boy alone, and returned to his work. However, his peace didn't last. Ten minutes later he heard several tentative knocks at the door. Draco politely apologised for his behaviour through the door and asked if Severus was still interested in having a chess game. The man was ready to beat his head against the wall. He refrained himself from snapping at his godson, reminding himself that Draco was pregnant and his mood swings weren't something very unusual, though it wasn't making it less annoying. It was not that his godson was left without any attention, he had nothing to complain about; they were spending a lot of time together, they were talking about many different things, they were walking outside the house, where was no one else around to see them, so why couldn't Severus be left alone for some time? Draco was the most important (even the only important) person for him, but that didn't mean he intended to give up all his interests.

"Later," he replied through the clenched teeth, trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Fine. I'll be in the living room," Draco informed almost cheerfully after a short pause and left the relieved man alone.

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><p>"Severus, what are you planning to do?" the blond asked him another day, knowing for sure that his godfather was working on something more than just potions during the last week.<p>

"Along with two mediwizards, I've been asked to make a close study of the mental state of Longbottoms," the man replied.

"Longbottoms? I thought they were a hopeless case. Do you think it's possible to return them sanity?"

"We'll see. I won't dare to make any promises or prognosis yet. It's all very questionable. Perhaps, we'll be able to return them something."

"Be careful, Severus, you've just almost convinced me that you decided to devote yourself to the exalted aims of the philanthropy," Draco joked.

"Merlin forbid. We both know that it's all about the challenge. By the way, they will be conveyed here two times a week, since I refused to work in hospital. I'll make sure they won't bother you, at any rate."

"Can I help you?"

"Of course. I'm sure, you'll be very useful. They require someone to wipe the saliva, leaking down their chins," the man replied impassively. Draco gasped and pouted at first.

"Severus, your kindness knows no bounds," he then rolled up his eyes, chuckling.

"I imagine you'll be even more 'pleased' to know that their son will be visiting them here."

"Oh, no. Please, tell me that was a joke. That Gryffindor here..." the blond frowned again.

"Draco, stop whining. I'm not particularly enthusiastic about it, too, but he may influence the result of my work. They're his parents, after all," Severus answered.

"What if he sees me?" Draco asked, looking down at his belly.

"Surely the house is big enough to avoid any undesirable meetings. I believe it's possible for you to stay on the second floor twice a week for a few hours."

"If he finds out about me, I'll obliviate him or probably even kill him, depending on my mood," the blond shrugged and took another sip of his tea.

"There's a strong probability of the latter, given that your mood has been terribly and unbelievably annoying," the man pointed out darkly.

"No, I'll better leave it up to you. You scare the hell out of that worthless Gryffindor, so I hope he'll run away after the very first visit and won't show up here again."

"At least, I'll be working and busy enough to escape your company, because you have definitely set yourself the task of getting on my nerves," Severus grumbled. Draco grinned at that.

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><p>Harry and Ginny had started to live together right after their graduation. The very next day, actually. They had purchased a house even before the school year had ended. It wasn't big, but quite enough for two of them. Their cohabitation hadn't been unclouded from the start. Harry didn't like the house, but he wasn't sure if he would have felt more comfortable anywhere else at all. At least, Ginny liked it very much. Sometimes Harry asked himself, what he was doing there. No, he wasn't feeling like he was at home. He probably needed time to get used to the new house; but the time went by, and he felt more and more alien to that place. He felt strangely irritated when anyone was coming into the house, which he couldn't even start to consider as his own, but still he hated it being 'crowded', even by Ron and Hermione, not to mention all of his other friends. Their visits were frustrating. He was ignoring all their questions when they were asking if something was wrong with him. Something was definitely wrong. His life was losing its sense, turning into some pointless existing. When he was sleeping with Ginny, he wasn't really there anymore. It became some kind of a... Of a what? A duty? A habit? He felt guilty every time, because, of course, she was noticing that he was becoming colder and colder. It came down to his avoidance of being with her at all. He was just saying that he was tired and was falling asleep without even touching her. Not all the time, but often enough. They were arguing frequently, and he knew he had to care more about it than he actually cared, but he couldn't. But yes, he felt guilty. Eventually, he started to drink. A lot. It was the only way he found to while away his incredibly long and boring days.<p>

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><p>Ginny returned after visiting her parents. Harry had refused to go with her, because he was ashamed to look in the eyes of those people, and he hadn't felt like having fun anyway. In their minds they all were preparing themselves for their wedding. Well, not that soon, of course, since both Harry and Ginny were quite young, but still everyone was prophesying that it would happen sooner or later. The thought was so alien to Harry. In addition, Ginny was talking about it sometimes, making hints, looking through the magazines with the wedding dresses of all possible kinds. She was talking about the countries she would like to visit during their honeymoon. Sometimes he was annoyed and angry about it, even if he wasn't showing it; sometimes he was asking himself again what he was doing in that house with her. His headaches were becoming unbearable because of those thoughts. And when he had started drinking, she was very confused. So when she returned home from her parents and found her Harry on the sofa in the living room, completely smashed, she scowled at him.<p>

"You're drunk again!" she exclaimed, stumbling over the empty bottle of firewhisky. It rolled away.

"Yes. So what?" he replied unemotionally. He was so tongue-tied right now.

"I've never seen you like this," she frowned. Well, she had seen him drunk, but not _**this **_drunk, so he wouldn't even be able to get up from the sofa even if he wanted to.

"You've never seen me at all," he shrugged after a pause. "You've seen... a Saviour, a Golden Boy, just... perfection. I'm fucking tired of being perfect and... an example. You can't please everybody," he chuckled bitterly. "If all the children will follow my example and start drinking just as their Saviour, I... don't give a fuck about it. Well, come on, tell me that I behave improperly..." It seemed it had taken forever to finish, since he was very bad with words right now. And he suddenly started to feel angry. A good amount of the strong drink inside of him made him feel aggressive. "Are you disgusted to see me like this? Good! I'm going to sleep here. I'm tired and I need rest."

"Do what you want!" she snapped and went to the bedroom. The clatter of her heels was infuriating.

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><p>At first he apologised after every time he had got drunk, but then he stopped apologising at all. He was going crazy, he knew it. Once he had even got lost in Wizarding London, completely forgetting where he lived and feeling disoriented. He had been sober and still it had happened. The memory had returned after some time of roaming, but it wasn't a good sign anyway. Everyone worried about him. Hermione insisted that he had to get professional help. Thankfully, Ginny stood up for him, saying that he wasn't in need of anything like that, that he was just having a hard period of his life, that it was all about the adaptation to the new life. She decided that he just had to have some fun, since they weren't going out anywhere at all together. Almost every day they got the invitations to the high-society parties. She gave him several cards, so he could choose. One by one he threw them into the fireplace to her frustration. He was drunk again.<p>

"Oh, how I want Voldemort back right now! This world simply needs him," he said, throwing the last one into the fire and then he took another sip from his bottle.

"What are you saying?" she gasped in shock.

"The truth. I'd rather fight and smell blood than looking at the faces of some stupid hypocrites. I don't even know them and they keep sending me this shit. Why? For another article in the paper? Voldemort would have entertained them much better, so they'd stop thinking about all of this crap," he mumbled.

"You're saying some crazy, incoherent nonsense," she shook her head.

"Maybe..."

Some of his statements scared her. She removed every bottle of the strong drink from the house, but he bought even more. Harry wasn't interested in anything at all. He even refused to go to the Quidditch matches with his friends. No one could drag him out of the house. Sometimes he was going for a walk alone, without any wish to come back. But he couldn't do it to Ginny. He was already upsetting her very much and couldn't do anything about it.

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><p>Once he was walking for a longer time than usually. It was already evening. He was roaming about Wizarding London pointlessly, until he saw <em><strong>him<strong>_... Lean body, dressed in expensive, long robes; blond hair, soft features. Harry's attention was riveted on him and he couldn't tear his eyes off the blond. All the other people around this _**beauty**_ started to seem ugly and grotesque. Sometimes the same thing had happened to Ginny's face, but he'd been drunk every time he'd seen that disturbing ugliness, so that was explainable. And now he was completely sober. He followed him. The good-looking young man was shopping. He stopped in front of the window of the clothes shop and saw something that made him interested. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly and he entered. His mouth... _**Pink**_ _**lips**_. Harry was waiting for him outside and the blond went out fifteen minutes later. The brunet had the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He was about twenty one - twenty two years old. His face was not as pale as Harry would have preferred, his hair was not as pale as he would have preferred, his eyes were aquamarine, but that didn't matter. Pink lips, blond hair, pink lips, blond hair, pink lips... Slightly dizzy, he followed the young blond man like a hungry cat, pursuing its prey. Once the unsuspecting man turned to the small and narrow side street, empty of people, probably deciding to take a short cut to the other, more crowded street, Harry grabbed his prey from behind, turned him around and cornered him. The man gasped, but before he had a chance to offer his money and anything not to get hurt, he was kissed roughly. Harry didn't care about the resistance. He grabbed the blonde's wrists and brought them behind the man's back, holding them tight, but not tight enough to cause any acute pain. Protesting moans and whimpers of the man, whose mouth was shut with a deep kiss, only made Harry even more persistent. The trembling blond broke the kiss several times, turning his face aside, but Harry wasn't giving him a chance to scream, kissing him again and again. Although Harry was a little younger, he was stronger, so the blond couldn't tear himself away. The brunet was nearly pressing the man into the wall with his body. Their clothes weren't hindering him from feeling the blonde's racing heart with his own chest.

"Please, no... Pl... hummph!" the man begged, but his mouth was shut with another kiss. When he felt a very hard erection, pressed into his groin, he finally realised that 'the robber' wasn't interested in his money at all, and nearly froze in panic. The brunet groped his buttocks with one hand. The other hand was still holding his wrists together behind his back. Harry was grinding his groin against the blonde's. Feeling that his body started to respond against his will, the scared young man flushed with shame and embarrassment, making another attempt to tear himself away. He was writhing, but was held in place firmly. Harry didn't care; he was drunk with his lust. He wanted him so much that any self-control was forgotten, and it felt good. In caressing way he was touching the blond locks, his hand travelled down the tensed back and squeezed the buttocks gently, once his hand had snaked into the blonde's trousers and briefs. The sexually assaulted young man screamed in the back of his throat, because the sound didn't escape - it was muffled with persistent kiss again. Harry was wondering deep inside, why _**his**_ blond was so tensed and scared. He couldn't possibly think that Harry would hurt him.

"Shhhh... Don't be afraid. Please. I won't hurt you, baby..." he tried to soothe him, but that was hardly convincing for the blond. And then Harry suddenly looked into the scared aquamarine eyes. They were begging him to stop, filled with the unshed tears. He saw them even if the side street was hardly illuminated. The realisation hit him like a dagger made of ice. Well, that was sobering, indeed. Shocked with himself, he slowly got his hands off the shaking blond and made several steps back. For about a minute the young man was afraid to move, refusing to believe that he'd been let go just like that. His panicked mind tried to find some catch. Finally he moved away from the wall and started to walk back hesitantly. He couldn't turn his back on the other man or do anything to provoke him, even if he saw in the semidarkness that the other man wasn't doing anything to look threatening. The blond couldn't be sure about it though, still being in a state of shock. When he disapparated, Harry grabbed his hair in distress, ready to pull them out, as he was realising what he had just done (and what else he could have done if he hadn't stopped in time), and wondering what the hell had come over him that he had become (or had nearly become) a rapist! He wasn't even drunk at all. He wanted to die. He also wanted to firecall the Aurors and surrender, but dismissed the thought, refusing to leave this place and hoping that the blond man would call them himself. Harry didn't care if he would be arrested. He deserved it. He sat down on the ground where he'd just committed his crime, deciding to make it easier for the Aurors to find the dangerous criminal. His head hurt like hell. He lay down and fell asleep some time later.

The chill woke him up in the morning. He was still there, in the side street near the wall, not in Azkaban where he belonged. It made him feel even worse. The blond he had assaulted was obviously far from being poor and he probably didn't want to draw _such_ an embarrassing attention to his family, so he remained silent about what had happened. That was frustrating. He'd been attacked by some perverse psychopath, for Merlin's sake! That couldn't just remain unpunished. Harry wondered if the young man would be all right and if he would manage to go on unscarred after such traumatizing experience. _'Well, I'm already quite experienced in ruining someone's life, one way or another,' _Harry thought to himself with the dark sarcasm.

When he returned 'home', he was met by concerned Ginny.

"Where have you been? I was worried sick!" she exclaimed.

"I needed to be alone for some time," he replied.

"But..."

"Please, don't say anything," he interrupted with the slight frown. She followed him as he was searching through the house, opening every single sideboard. At last, he found what he'd been looking for. Whisky. He took the bottle into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked with worry.

"I want to take a bath if you don't mind," he answered coldly, turning the water on.

"Are you going to drink? Mother is waiting for us today," she frowned.

"Then you're going to apologise for me, because I'm not going anywhere," he said. She stormed out, slamming the door behind herself. Harry undressed himself and got into the bath. Relaxing in the hot water, he was drinking whisky straight from the bottle. Soon all his troubles and self-hatred became distant...

Ginny was at her parents' house and he felt strangely relieved. But he wanted someone by his side right now. He decided to do what he'd thought, he never would: he firecalled some elite brothel and asked to send 'anyone'. When the good-looking woman asked him, what kind of company he desired, asking him to be more specific, he said that he wanted a young blond man and everything else didn't matter. Ten minutes later a beautiful boy, about eighteen years old, was standing in front of the fireplace. His sandy blond hair was long, nearly reaching his waistline, and his face looked a little _**too**_ feminine, but his drunk client didn't care.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. The boy opened his delicate mouth to answer, but Harry stopped him: "No, don't tell me". He led the boy into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, watching as the blond was undressing himself. He was quite pretty indeed. Harry's attention was attracted by two beautiful tattoos: the one on the small of the boy's back and the other one was a snake around his ankle. Snakes were quite fine by him. He also looked into the boy's eyes. Their colour was something between grey and green. They looked so innocent and pure... Harry didn't really care; though he could bet that most clients would gladly give all their savings to touch this body. He undressed, too, and laid the boy into bed. He started to caress him, touch him, kiss and lick him all over. The blond attempted to touch him back, but Harry shook his head. He wanted to touch and not to be touched. The boy couldn't remember when he'd been touched so gently and by such a handsome and young man, probably of the same age as he was. Not that he had much experience. If only the client wasn't this drunk... But the blond wasn't the one to complain. He thought that the brunet resembled someone well-known. When he thought about Harry Potter, whose photographs he'd seen in the papers many times, he laughed at himself silently. Surely the Saviour had enough fans in the whole Wizarding World, eager to please him, so he'd never use such services for a fee. Soon he wasn't thinking about anything at all, panting as he was enjoying the caresses. Harry couldn't think, he could hardly remember anything, and he didn't want to. Most of his senses were working hard, despite of his drunken state: every single sound, the pleasant smell, the images (even if they were dim and he suspected that he was seeing someone else's body in his mind), the sense of touch. It was simply overwhelming. The skin under his palms and fingertips felt wonderful. But he wasn't really focusing on the body he was touching; only his own senses were important now. He wanted to feel! He was hungry and thirsty for this, absorbing every single detail. The emotions returned with revenge, flooding him, since he had been feeling so little recently. Just sometimes the emotions had been breaking through some invisible barriers. So now, when it all was so strong and so intense, he wanted to scream. And then it suddenly stopped. He became indifferent. He could touch this smooth skin or a rough stone and feel the same. He pressed his face to the other boy's chest and started to sob, feeling himself even more drunk and tired than before.

"Have I done anything wrong?" the blond asked, very confused. What could he have possibly done wrong when he hadn't been doing anything?

"No," Harry replied quietly. He lay near the other boy. His head started to hurt. Again...

"Should I leave?"

"No. Stay with me. I need some sleep. Just stay here. I'll pay for your time," the brunet said, speaking in a thick voice. The angelic eyes looked at him and the boy nodded. Harry covered them both with the blanket and wrapped his arms around the delicate body. The blond held him in return. Harry fell asleep very soon.

When Ginny returned in the evening and entered the bedroom, she was stunned, seeing _**her**_ Harry in _**their**_ bed, sleeping with the other girl and holding her in his arms protectively. When she approached, she saw that it wasn't even a girl. It was a feminine, long-haired boy, sleeping with _**her**_ Harry in _**their**_ bed! The gender didn't matter though, because Harry had been fucking someone right here in their house!

"What the fuck does it mean!" she yelled. Both boys woke up immediately. Harry winced. Her voice was literally splitting his head. At first he couldn't even understand why Ginny was so mad. Yelling and scolding, she tried to hit the blond, but Harry foresaw it and took the hit upon himself.

"Filthy slut! I'll kill you! Dirty fag! Whore!" she shouted furiously. Harry wasn't giving her a chance to hurt _**his**_ blond. Though, why his? He wasn't his at all... But, anyway, the other boy wasn't guilty of what was happening, so Harry received every single hit, slap and several stinging curses, protecting the blond with his body. Harry didn't make a sound though. In rage Ginny threw a heavy statuette; it hit the wall right above the headboard of the bed and shattered, making the body under Harry's flinch. After that she retreated to the window, sobbing loudly with her head buried in her hands. Using the opportunity, Harry helped the blond to get out of the bed and gathered all his clothes off the floor. He led the boy down into the living room and gave him his clothes.

"I'm really sorry that you've witnessed that," Harry sighed. He paid twice as much again as they had previously agreed. At this the blond gave him a perplexed look, it was quite a lot of money for just... sleeping, but Harry shook his head.

"Take it. And you better find a good job. I see this one is quite dangerous," he chuckled darkly. The blond couldn't help, but smile. He pressed his lips to the brunet's. Harry gave him some floo powder and the naked boy was soon gone.

Harry didn't know what to do. Returning to the bedroom wasn't a good idea and he didn't want to explain Ginny that he had been _**sleeping**_ with the blond and not really having sex with him (he had been kissing and caressing him though), simply because he couldn't. _'Fuck it. I'm tired of trying to explain my actions to myself, so it's stupid to try to explain it to anyone else,'_ he thought and found another bottle of whisky. _'Well, the last two days were quite eventful,' _the thought sarcastically. First, he had nearly raped the young man, like some savage maniac (he was still waiting for the Aurors to find and arrest him), then he had spent the night in the street; he had got drunk again, he had slept with the prostitute, he had been beaten up and cursed by Ginny, as a result.

"Cheers, Harry!" he chuckled and took a few sips of the strong drink.

In the morning after the sleepless night, blind drunk and still naked Harry entered the kitchen where Ginny was cooking something. He held her tight from behind, nearly hanging on her as he could hardly stand on his feet.

"What are you doing to me, Ginny?" he mumbled, though it was very hard for him to talk at all, not to mention that he was hardly realising what exactly he was saying. She froze and closed her eyes. Everything was falling apart. But it was going to be all right, she would find a way to make it better, so they would be very happy together again.


	16. 15 My loving heart lost in the dark

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Thanks a lot for all reviews! Really enjoyed reading them :)

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><p><em><strong>15. My loving heart lost in the dark<strong>_

Every night now Harry was sleeping in the guest room, and that was fine by him. He wanted Ginny, he needed her; sometimes he needed her desperately, but he was now too absorbed in his problems. He had asked her to give him time, but never explained anything. She wasn't taking it well. He didn't care though. In part, he was doing it for her, because his demeanour was hurting her (and other people, too).

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><p>All right... He had a problem. A real one. Something was often blocking his emotions and confusing his mind. His taking of alcoholic drinks wasn't a cause, it was an effect. He had to get to the roots of the problem. The daylight was hurting right now; he had to be in the darkness, not to be distracted by any visual images. Something had to be done right now while his mind was clear. He just knew it. He couldn't just put up with it, knowing that he was going insane. He went downstairs to the basement. It was colder down there, it was dark and silent. Harry was still sober these early hours. He groped his way in the dark and sat down near the wall. When he managed to relax and clear his mind, he started to think. What was wrong with him? Why had he abandoned his friends, why was he avoiding them? Why had he lost all his interests and, first of all, the interest in living his life? There had to be some reason of this depression. The depression, like drinking, was an effect, a consequence, not a cause. When had it started? Hogwarts. But when exactly? He'd been happy, he could remember it. It had been so long ago it seemed... That was it! The pain... A headache. For a long time he'd been complying with this pain subconsciously, letting it rule over him just to make it stop hurting. It was normal for any human being to avoid pain. What if he tried to fight it? It felt like it was trying to keep him from something. He continued his introspection despite of it, just to understand its nature. Yes, he had been happy. Why had it ended? No, that was the wrong question. What had been making him happy? A good question to start with. He'd been happy with Ginny, but wasn't happy anymore... He was soon exhausted and the pain became unbearable, so he had to stop. <em>'It's not over,'<em> he promised himself.

The next few days he was repeating the experiment, but every time his soul-searching was ending with terrible pain, so he couldn't think anymore. The progress was very small, but still, he started to see some things clearer in his mind; things from his past, not quite memories, but feelings and emotions that were associated with those memories. The emotions, - that was important; he wasn't having any amnesia when his mind was clear. He could remember everything: events, sounds, images, people. But what had he been feeling, experiencing them? He often remembered angriness and depression. But it couldn't be all he'd been feeling, could it? He had a hard time, analysing most things. Harry wasn't even sure if he was doing the right thing, but he was following his intuition.

It was the time to take a risk and to go deeper. He went to the basement again, taking several vials of potions with him. Three of them were strong pain-relieving potions that usually were a good help to ease the headaches. And two other vials were full of the potion that was helpful when the person needed to concentrate, to focus on something, to see things clearer. It had a side effect though: when it was wearing off several hours later, the person had a strong drowsiness and then slept for many hours. But it wasn't a problem for Harry. He had enough time. He drained one of the vials. The taste was good and fresh, unlike most potions. It felt comfortable in the dark. Aside from the fact that the darkness eased his headache, allowing him to focus on something, it also had probably something to do with the time he had spent in the cupboard when he was little, where he had always found it easier to think and plan, despite his hating of the place. After clearing his mind, as he'd usually done lately, he started his introspection. Skipping right to the point was never good, so he started with the easier tasks. At first he remembered Quidditch and all the feelings he'd had about it. The feeling of fly, the adrenaline, the speed, the dizziness... The triumph when he'd been catching a snitch, the pain when he had been injured. He was doing well, so far, and complimented himself for this. He liked this game of associations. He'd been doing this exercise for several previous days, and he'd already got a little better in it. The next thing... Voldemort. Why not? It wasn't necessary to remember only good emotions. The hatred, the fear of being possessed, the responsibility for the lives of the other people. Not all the things could be described with words, so he just tried to remember them, to feel them again without analysing. It was working, though not as good as he wanted. And then his friends... That was harder, but he managed to feel that he loved them, but why the hell was he avoiding them then? Albus Dumbledore... When Harry had been younger, he'd admired the man. Yes, he could remember it. He could remember, how broken he'd been when Dumbledore had died. But then, after the war, when he'd been older, he had been looking back with a lot of doubts. So many things were questionable. He'd been feeling betrayed, but this feeling was never on the surface. Confusion, guilt that he'd been so disrespectful to the memory of the man, but doubts, doubts, doubts... The first kiss. Cho. Wet. He chuckled at himself. All right, it had been thrilling, because it had been the first kiss, but it hadn't been something very breathtaking. Ginny... And that was when he felt confused. The first time she had kissed him, it felt completely astonishing, mind-blowing. The happiness flooded him at the memory. But... He had to be honest with himself, even if it felt far too comfortable not to. The emotions were too vivid. Like some kind of exaggeration. Like a true story that was embellished with some small details that had never taken place. Had it really been _**that**_ wonderful? The more he doubted and questioned himself, the more his headache intensified. He took one of the potions to ease the pain and started to take deep breaths. That kiss had been good, and deep, and touching; and he'd liked it, he knew it, _**but**_... Suddenly he remembered the young man he had been molesting days ago against the man's will. Harry hadn't been himself and it was something he still couldn't explain. _'Dursleys were right, - I'm just a freak...'_ He'd never thought he could be so violent. What could have been the reason? He remembered the way he'd spotted the man and had had a feeling of ecstasy and adoration; not very intense feeling though, but still he'd been enthralled, as if the blond had come down from heaven into this ugly world, no less. Really odd feeling. And why? His hair, the softness of his features... The man was blond. So what? What was about the blonds? He was dreaming about the blonds sometimes, though those dreams were always clouded and dim. And that certainly wasn't enough reason, nor was it an excuse, for harassing and raping people in the dark streets. Harry felt terribly ashamed of himself. And the blond prostitute? How could he be so unfaithful to Ginny? But it couldn't be just some obsession with the hair colour or some unrealised fantasy. There had to be the reason, unless Harry was just a sexually frustrated pervert. _'Think... Think! Don't lose it.'_

_Delicateness,_ _paleness... Pale skin, pale blond hair, pale eyelashes. The eyes are opening. Grey, light, deep; so deep that the whole Harry's universe could drown in them. They are captivating. Smoothness of skin... It is so warm and comforting to hold the lean body in his arms. _

The grey eyes, paleness and smoothness... All of it was Draco's, of course. But what did Draco have to do with this? The blond had been something in Harry's past, something that had ended. Or... Something was seriously disconnected in Harry's mind. Something was lost and missed, making Harry's heart feel uneasy. Another potion not to lose his concentration was taken. Just a half of the second vial for now. The pain-relieving followed, because the pain in his head was becoming very distracting. What Harry had felt and still felt sometimes, was the guilt. He'd hurt Draco, ruined something. Was that all? _'For fuck's sake! We had such strong emotions towards each other, since we both were eleven years old, that I wondered how the air itself wasn't blazing up around us, burning people alive and everything else that could or couldn't burn, when we were just looking at each other! Sometimes I felt that together we could start a real catastrophe. Okay, I was very young and I liked to overstate. But our fury and our passion... It was there. We were driving each other mad. Gods and people, and Merlin knows who else, are the witnesses, we were! My school years would have been poor without it. And then we became friends and lovers, and I wasn't unhappy about it. I was far from being unhappy! Where's all of that now? Why can't I remember how all of it really felt, even if I've lost the interest?'_ Harry got angry, but calmed down soon. Draco then. A great challenge for his mind it seemed.

_Harry is lying on Draco's lean body between his parted legs, inside of him. He's looking at the slightly flushed face and half-lidded eyes. The pink lips are parted. They're whispering and mumbling something incoherent, but sweet; something that Draco himself hardly realises he's doing. Harry is moving slowly, rubbing the blonde's hard erection with his abdomen. Gentle hands are caressing the small of his back. It has to feel good... _

It was confusing and the emotions were weak, even if the pictures in his mind were beautiful. He decided to start with something else. Their first Quidditch match. Yes, that was truly a fine thing to remember. Draco - little, evil (and very good-looking, as usually) snake had been insulting him. They'd been in front of each other. And then... the snitch. So close to the angry blond that it had almost been tickling his ear with its wing, and Draco had been too busy even to notice it. Harry laughed. Yes, he actually laughed at the memory. His headache returned again (too soon after taking a potion), but he continued. The sorting. The Hat had hardly even touched the blond head when it had sorted Draco into the Slytherin, and the little, pompous, arrogant and very happy arse had headed towards the table of his house. For Harry it had been another (if not the most important) reason to go 'anywhere but Slytherin'. And then he remembered the way the little prick had scared the hell out of him by dressing himself like a Dementor (later, when they had become friends, Draco had confessed that he was scared of the Dementors just as much as Harry).

He was thinking about a lot of things in their past. Arrogant, self-satisfied brat, turning up his nice nose all the time, but very appealing, even when malicious. Once or twice, listening to Draco's stinging remarks, Harry couldn't help but remember that many centuries ago in the Muggle World people had erroneously believed that the snakes 'bit' with their forked tongues, which, in their opinion, were saturated with poison, and the snakes were aggressive enough to stick it out all the time. And Draco... What a trap, - the angelic appearance could be so very deceptive. But Harry hadn't been shown that Draco was much more than that, - deep, many-sided person, until they had become friends.

When the thoughts brought him to their sixth year, when he had nearly killed Draco and had been standing there in shock, completely stunned, seeing the boy lying on the floor with the horrible, bleeding wounds all over his body, he felt sad. There was a pain in his chest, but that was good - he could feel. It had always given him strong emotions. Many times before, he'd returned to that particular moment of his life, and every time he thought about the way he could have probably avoided that situation. _'It's normal after the tragic events. Many people think about the things they could have done different, post factum.'_ Back then, he could have tried to find a way to talk to Draco, who had been very lonely, depressed and cornered. He'd had no idea what exactly he could have done or said to the blond (who had had to be bound and gagged first, because there had been no way he would have listened otherwise). Harry had been following Draco during the whole sixth year; not only he'd been worrying about what the blond could do, but he'd also worried about _**him**_. That hadn't been helpful, however, to prevent the tragic events. And then, another memory. The Malfoy's Manor. Draco's face in front of hardly recognisable Harry's. But Draco had recognised him. Of course, he had. They'd been rivals for years, so it would have been ridiculous if he hadn't recognised The Golden Trio. It had been the moment when Harry had been seeing the Slytherin very close. He had been looking into the grey eyes for the first time like that, noticing their true colour, - the unusual shade of light-grey and the other details, noticing the tiredness; even noticing 'help me, I can't take it anymore', though Draco had hardly wanted it to be noticed. And he hadn't been like one of those people around him. _'Like a white wilting and lonely rose among the decaying weed,'_ Harry remembered his own thought once again and, speaking of roses, another memory flashed across his mind. A white rose, left on Draco's pillow... Yes, it had been left near the peacefully sleeping blond. The headache was killing Harry now, but he refused to stop and leave everything like this.

He knew his painful memories were incredibly strong, so he concentrated on them. Now they could be even more useful than any others.

Fucking bastards - Dursleys, insulting the memory of his parents, telling him that they'd been alcoholics and worthless people. Cedric's terrible death on the graveyard when the ugly bastard had returned. Draco, crying and looking so betrayed when Harry had been leaving him. Sirius' death; fucking unfair death after the twelve years of undeserved imprisonment and after he and Harry had found each other!

Feeling that he was about to faint, Harry cast 'Rennervate' on himself and drank another potion to ease the headache. His magic was wild around him and the pain was hardly only physical now. It was still better than the dumb indifference. All he needed to do was hold on to his thoughts and emotions, not to lose them, no matter what, even when the thread, that was binding him to them, was becoming thin and was about to tear. Harry knew he was screaming and writhing on the wooden floor.

People, turning their backs on him after his fourth year and he'd been accused of lies; and not many had believed their 'Golden Boy'! Eleven-year-old Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets and he hadn't been sure that she'd been still alive. Poisoned Ron. Tortured Hermione. The Dementor, sucking out what little happiness Harry had had in his life. Draco, beaten up by the Gryffindors and bleeding, standing near the wall, surrounded and helpless. Hatred or fear of many people, who'd thought that Harry had been an heir of Salazar Slytherin. Deaths of his parents, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Dobby and so many other people... Loss, sorrow, pain, misery, helplessness, loneliness, grief, regrets.

Harry heard himself screaming again. He had a faint thought that he was probably driving himself insane further, tearing his mind into pieces. But could he really make things worse? Did it really matter if he was just hastening the inevitable insanity? The painful flashes were burning his already inflamed and wounded mind like the white-hot iron. _**He could feel**_.

Draco with his wand, pointed at Dumbledore; the blond had been crying. Gods, how cornered he'd been! The Dementor, nearly killing Sirius...

The list seemed to be _**endless**_! Harry had lost so much that sometimes it seemed unbelievable. He'd been so broken and his heart was scarred all over. Maybe that was the reason he was going crazy? Why now? The pain threatened to squeeze the eyes out of his head. He was having a high fever, but he could hardly feel it. His nose was bleeding. Being half-conscious, he already couldn't lift his wand to cast another 'Rennervate'. And then again: the blond hair, so soft... Lean, pale body, beautiful from head to toes, his voice, the tenderness... _'I'm fucking crazy and I've been looking for __**you**__ all the time, Draco. Looking for you in strangers... Looking for you everywhere. Anywhere... God, help me! Somebody, help...'_ Then there were some desultory thoughts and already meaningless flashbacks, and finally everything was gone...

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><p>Harry woke up a day and a half later, though the time didn't matter. In the darkness of the basement he tried to put his thoughts in order, but failed. He didn't even know for how long his introspection had lasted. He couldn't remember anything clearly, he was sick and exhausted. His entire body was aching and he had fever. With great efforts he got out of the basement, cleaning his face from the dried blood, only because it felt uncomfortable. The light caused pain to his eyes and head. The whole house seemed unfamiliar at first. His only wish was to lie down. The way to the guest room was hard; he was slightly surprised that he found the way at all. He met Ginny on the stairs.<p>

"Where have you been again? You don't even think that you make me worry. Ron and Hermione firecalled you more than ten times already," she said, trying not to raise her voice. He ignored her and walked past her, hardly understanding her words, hardly noticing her at all. She hadn't even noticed how sick he was, thinking that he was just drunk again. Indeed, he looked like that. Several days ago Harry had asked her to give him time, and she didn't like it at all, but she didn't want to argue, believing that understanding would only place her in a good light. He'd said that he was doing it for her, for _**them**_. And still, his behaviour was frustrating. She wanted her Harry back... He couldn't leave her, that was for sure, and if he needed time to find his way out of depression, so they could be happy again, she had to give it to him.

Harry fell asleep, once he'd reached the bed. When he woke up after some very odd, psychedelic dreams, his entire being was burning and his head was throbbing. Thankfully, there were some potions in the bathroom to subdue fever. It took him some time to read the labels and understand which one he needed. But it was hardly helpful. He filled the bathtub with the cold water and got into it. It was a little relaxing, but useless for his mental confusion. Everything was foggy. He fell asleep again, this time in the water, taking a safe position to make sure, he wouldn't slide down and drown. At least, he'd taken care about it. There were dreams again. They were chaotic and he couldn't understand anything. Some of them included the erotic content, but they were so unclear...

Next time he woke up because of the cold. His body and his mind were numb. Half-conscious he returned to bed and wrapped his wet, cold body into the blanket. It wasn't helpful, since it seemed he was freezing inside. The cold was so intense that it almost burned him. The silence was deafening. Something was pulling him into oblivion and he was trying to fight it with varied success. Trapped between the wakefulness and sleep, he started to see visions of his past without any way to analyse them or concentrate on them at all. Finally, they led him to the moments, he would have rather forgotten. And it was much clearer than all the previous visions.

_Draco is looking into his eyes; his own grey eyes are full of sincere concern. _

_"Harry, are you sure you're all right?"_

_"I'm sure. Why?"_

_"I don't know... I just worry about you and... about us. You look so distant."_

_"I've already told you that there's nothing to worry about. I'm just a little tired." he almost snaps, irritation is clear in his voice. Harry's heart is beating faster, and yes, he's irritated, almost angry with the blond. Why? Maybe it's because Harry is lying and he knows it? Maybe it's because he's lying insolently, having a nerve to look right into Draco's eyes? Maybe it's because **only an hour ago** he was snogging with Ginny in the Gryffindor's common room? Maybe it's because he keeps lying, saying that he is not avoiding Draco when, in fact, he **is**? _

_"Sorry..." the blond whispers, piqued by Harry's annoyance._

_**'Oh, God, you have nothing to be sorry for...'**_

_Perhaps, Draco thinks he was annoying and that's why Harry is angry. It makes Harry calm down and he pacifies Draco with a soft kiss. It works every time, but Harry no longer puts his soul into it. It's just a way to shut Draco's mouth and make him stop worrying. It has become one of Harry's rare gifts, so it really works, because it nourishes Draco's hopes. But it is for the best right now. _

_Harry doesn't even know why he still comes to Draco. Everything has changed and he doesn't know what he feels anymore. Everything's foggy; he doesn't know what to do, so he doesn't do anything and keeps lying. But he's afraid to cause pain (as if his coldness doesn't cause enough pain). Or he just wants to avoid arguing. He doesn't want to feel even guiltier. Or probably he even wants Draco to make a decision to break up and unburden Harry's conscience. But the blond doesn't seem to come to that decision even if the Gryffindor treats him like this. Where's his famous Malfoyish pride? What Harry has done to subdue it this efficiently, so Draco Malfoy turns a blind eye to his own humiliation? He's even stopped saying anything when Harry fails him, when Harry promises to visit him and doesn't come. Apparently, Draco is fine with being humiliated and fine with being unwanted. He can feel he's unwanted, can't he? Harry can tell that the blond doesn't really believe Harry's lies when Harry excuses himself, saying that he's busy or doesn't feel well, but Draco accepts it; he **makes** himself believe. Stubborn idiot keeps holding onto his stupid idea of '**them**'. _

God, Harry was so utterly ashamed of himself right now. He was a liar, a traitor. He was a freak... How could he ever do all of it, think all of it? It had been simply... cruel.

_And then, two days later he fucks Ginny for the first time, only several hours after fucking Draco. Only then he truly decides to break up with the blond._

Never in his life had he been more disappointed with himself. He deserved all the bad things that had happened to him, because he was a terrible person. Probably the life was fair to him, after all.

_Draco is smiling and holding him tight. But something is wrong. Harry frees himself from the embrace coldly. The smile disappears and there's a deep hurt in the grey eyes. Harry knows that he's been unfair lately. No, not just unfair; he's a bastard and a coward. And now he's leaving... He can almost feel the small shock waves from Draco's chest as the blonde's heart starts to beat faster in concern and painful anticipation. He knows, he feels..._

Harry knew what was about to happen, he tried to prevent it, but couldn't. It was the past that he couldn't change.

_**'No... Draco, don't let me say it.'**_

_"I can't lie anymore. Something happened yesterday and... You need to know... I was with Ginny." Harry closes his eyes, because he can't look. He's shaking. "I'm so sorry. Draco, I... Look... I've got entangled. I need some time." Every word is unbearably hard to speak. There are other things he's saying, though he can't hear it, but he doesn't have to._

He wanted to take his own words back, shove them back down his throat. But, alas... Just a memory.

_"...Don't even try to explain it... You're a liar! The whole week I was asking you if something... was wrong, and you lied to me! You were fucking me, thinking about her!" Draco cries. Loudly. Every sob is piercing Harry's heart and mind, which is falling apart further and further with every painful sound. _**_'I can not be doing this! I couldn't... I would have never done it to Draco. And yet, that's exactly what I'm doing.'_**_ Other words from both of them and then the coldness... This is not a real coldness though. How much it costs Draco almost to take himself under control outwardly, when everything is obviously collapsing inside of him? Harry can't speak anymore, paralysed and helpless to stop this madness._

_"We had fun, but it's over. You don't owe me anything."_

_**'No, don't say that! It's not true... I know you don't mean it.'**_

He knew it was the way it had really happened in the past when that talk had taken place (with the exception of his emotions), though he was surprised how detailed the memory was, more detailed than he'd ever remembered it. And if it had felt somehow wrong back then, when he'd been leaving Draco, now it was destroying Harry, tearing him apart. He'd been working with his memories to feel again, now he wanted it to stop. It was too much; just too much. He didn't want to feel _**this**_. However, it wasn't something he could control.

_"...That's fine. I should have been realistic; you've always preferred Weasleys to me, so there's nothing new about it." Every word hurts them both. The words are cold, but Draco is crying inside and Harry is crying with him._

_**'...It can't be true. What's happening to us?'**_

_"I should have known. What happened between two of us didn't mean anything, at any rate."_

_**'It meant everything...'**_

_"I was probably just another conquest to you, since, I believe, you've always been hers. Perhaps, I've lost everything and I'm just nobody, but surprisingly I still have some pride. I don't need any leftovers. Would you be so kind as to get the hell out of my room this instant?"_

_**'No, Draco! Please, don't let me go like this! Don't let me go!' **__Desperately he tries to find control over his 'body'..._

...Even if it was only a vision...

_...It works. He tries to reach out his hands to Draco, to hold him tight. But every time he gets close, Draco seems more and more distant and unreal, like everything around. _**_'I can't lose you!'_**

He screamed. A minute later he heard a concerned voice. It belonged to a young woman:

"Harry! Oh, Merlin, you're bleeding!" Ginny...

He couldn't hear anything else, because he passed out.

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><p>During the next two days Ginny was taking care of him, feeding him, helping him to drink, giving him potions to heal the fever and headaches, cleaning the blood that was occasionally running out of his nose and ears. Silently he was accepting her care. He felt numb. Obviously, he'd overstrained his mind and now was feeling more indifferent than ever. But it felt different than before his introspections. It was just a mental overload, a fatigue. When he was capable of thinking, he wondered if he'd damaged his mind permanently or something would change, once the illness and tiredness would pass. He once saw Draco, sitting on the edge of his bed and Harry's heart almost stopped. Draco's back was turned on him; his shoulders and head were lowered and he wasn't moving. Harry tried to touch him, but woke up. It had been just a dream (or another vision), very short one; the only dream he saw during his illness. When he felt much better (physically), he was still unbearably thirsty, like never in his life before, and drank as much water as he could take.<p>

He was thinking about Draco more and more often. Already strong enough to walk, he went up to the attic and found the boxes with the school things he no longer needed. There were a lot of school books. He knew where to look... The book on the History of Magic of the final year. There, between the pages, he found two photographs of the blond Slytherin. One of them had been taken last autumn, near the Forbidden Forest. He liked the picture. The blonde's wand was shedding light on them, making his own hair shine and glow. They were standing very close to each other and they were content... Harry gently traced Draco's aristocratic and soft features with his eyes. It seemed that walk had taken place so long ago. The other picture had been taken without Draco's knowing. The blond was sleeping on his stomach in bed, embracing the pillow. Naked. The blanket was only covering his lower body to the middle of his delicious bottom. Nice and erotic. Calm breathing was making his beautiful back move up and down softly. With the bitter smile Harry touched the body on the picture with his fingertips. _'How could I lose you? No... Not just lose you, I pushed you away and dug my own grave. I don't even know, why. Everything looks like I just used you and threw you away like some... garbage. It can't be true.' _Tears escaped his eyes. _'I feel so bad without you, Draco...' _It hurt, it hurt like hell_._

Harry had already spent many hours in the attic, reading a book which was Draco's gift; a book about the ancient castles. He was rather looking at the pictures than reading it. He'd read the entire book avidly long ago. Now he held it exceptionally dear, because it had belonged to Draco once. He treated a book like a treasure.

Later he started to look at Ginny and think: _'Was it all worth it?'_ Had he really had to do something that everyone had expected from him, sacrificing everything else? Had he really had to start living together with Ginny, just not to disappoint his friends - Weasleys and especially his best friend Ron? For what? Just to make Ginny unhappy? On the other hand, was it a true reason at all? _'I'm a bastard. I've made two good people miserable; both Ginny and Draco... And that, of course, hasn't done me any good.'_ The only thing he knew was that he couldn't hurt Ginny anymore...

It was a deep, sleepless night, half past two, when he approached the fireplace and firecalled Hermione and Ron in their new house. He waited for five minutes before he saw Ron's very sleepy face.

"Ron, I know it's late, I'm sorry, but I need to talk to you right now," Harry said.

"What happened?" Ron asked with concern. He had enough reasons to worry, since Harry hadn't answered his and Hermione's firecalls for a long time already, refusing to meet them, and they were also aware of his drinking problem. Ginny was silent and had never really explained anything of what was happening to their friend. Hermione found it very strange, and Ron shared her opinion. The privacy was a very normal thing, but Ginny's secrecy somehow felt odd. And now, all of a sudden, Harry finally firecalled.

"Could we meet somewhere?" he asked, leaving Ron's question unanswered.

"Of course. Should I wake up Mione?"

"No. There's no need to."

"Okay. Give me fifteen minutes."


	17. 16 Revelations

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Aquarinus (Glad you liked! Indeed, it's evil. Next chapter explains it.), Sun (Oh, I understand your indignation! ;) ), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Here it is :) ), Psychosocial (Please enjoy :)!), Suave Asphyxiation (So glad you enjoy it! :) ), Lilyth (Yes, I didn't really mention it before.), Arcania (Here :) ), Battery (Exactly! But his subconsciousness rebelled quite often.), Nys (Here it is!) _**thank you so much for all your reviews! :)**_

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><p><em><strong>16. Revelations<strong>_

They were sitting in a pub, which was usually opened all night long. Ron was slowly drinking his butterbeer, and Harry could only drink the water, as he was still feeling dry. He was drinking the second glass already, but was still silent. The redhead was patiently waiting for his friend to start the talk.

"Ron, I don't know what to do. I just don't know..." Harry sighed.

"What's happening to you, mate. I simply don't recognise you. If you're in trouble, let me help," Ron encouraged, feeling the tension around Harry and noticing the way the brunet's hand was shaking, holding the glass.

"I don't know if you're going to turn your back on me, but I can't talk to anyone else."

"You're my friend, my best friend, and I want to know what's wrong with you," the redhead reassured. Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His head was splitting again, but he'd already learned to ignore it... Almost.

"I don't love Ginny. I can't lie to her anymore, I can't listen to her when she's talking about the wedding and... We've already been sleeping in separate rooms for some time," he said with the low voice. Ron was speechless for almost a minute. He ran his hand through his hair.

"I... knew you had problems. Both Mione and I have noticed that you and Ginny weren't quite... all right," he finally replied.

"I thought we'd be happy, living together. Now we have this damned house, which I hate." Harry growled the last words, but quickly pulled himself together. "I thought we just needed time to get used to our new life and so on... But now I can clearly see that it'll be only worse. I can't hold it up; I can't keep tormenting both of us. We have to end this. She's a good person, but... Ron, I don't want to lose all of you, especially you. You know I love all of you."

"I know," the redhead nodded.

"You have the right to hate me, but I don't think you'll be happy if I ruin your sister's life. I'm not the person she needs. She deserves better. But I can't take it anymore." Harry became nervous again and overturned the glass with an accident move of his shaking hand. It didn't break though, and it was already empty. Ron felt sad, seeing him like this. Harry's tired eyes roved quickly and restlessly, and he was very twitchy.

"Just... calm down." The redhead set the glass up. "Have you talked to her?"

"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I know it's stupid and... It's cowardice."

"Oh, come on. We've been through a lot together: you, Hermione and I. I admit I liked to think of us as relatives, as a family; officially, I mean. But who the hell needs such sacrifices? You should've talked to me sooner."

"I didn't want to disappoint you and... I wasn't myself. Don't ask me what it means, I don't know. I could hardly think and make any decisions."

"Tell me, do you have an eye to someone else?"

"Yes... and no."

"Who is she?"

"Looks like I still have a chance to disappoint you," Harry laughed bitterly and it wasn't a normal sound for him. _'Do I even care if I will?' __He frowned at the thought. Of course, he cared; of course, he needed Ron's support, though he thought he wouldn't get it now._

"Why? Is she that terrible? Ugly? Stupid?" Ron smirked slightly, trying not to concentrate his attention on the unfamiliar things in Harry's behaviour. Maybe if he acted like he wasn't noticing it, Harry would feel more relaxed?

"No. On the contrary. And it's _**he**_," Harry said as if he was talking about... the weather, for example.

"Oh..." Ron ran his hand through his hair again. _'Okay, stay calm.' __In their past h__is impulsiveness had already nearly destroyed their friendship twice and he didn't want it to happen again._

"We were together for some time and I was very happy. I've never been so happy with anyone else at all. But I left him because of Ginny. I know he hates me and he would never want to see me again after what I did to him," the brunet continued.

"Was he that special to you?" Ron asked. He had... suspicions about who could that secret lover be, but decided not to ask about it. There was already enough information for nearly half past three in the morning. All right, his best friend was a gay, but it wasn't as bad as his self-destruction and desperation. Yes, it was a good thing to do - to choose the lesser of two evils. Ron calmed himself down with this well-known point.

"Yes... Special," Harry sighed and Ron noticed the way his friend's face slightly distorted in sorrow for a moment. "But, as I said, it's over, he wouldn't take me back, I'm sure of it. So he's not the reason why I want to leave Ginny. I'd better be alone."

"You never stop surprising me, Harry... What of Ginny, I think you should talk to her as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Ron. I'm glad you're still my friend."

"It wasn't very wise of you to start living with Ginny only because you didn't want to disappoint my family," Ron frowned.

"I'm not even sure if that was the reason," Harry shook his head.

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><p>Harry couldn't sleep at all. It was good to have Ron's support, but something was still pulling him back to Ginny. He even wanted to apologise and start all over again. But then what? He couldn't see any future with her, but he could hardly see himself without her, at the same time. <em>'No, it's decided. But how? 'Good morning, Ginny! By the way, we have to break up.' Fucking wonderful. On the other hand, I was just great, breaking up with Draco. Just rubbed it into his face, without choosing the words more carefully, and, like a coward, left him alone with this!'<em> In rage Harry threw the cut-glass vase - someone's gift, received in a house-warming party. It hit the floor and shattered. This damned house... He would gladly give vent to his muddled feelings by breaking and shattering every single object in this hated place and then he'd burn it down. He would just set it on fire and watch it burning to ashes with some sadistic pleasure and relief. It took some time to take control over himself. And then he was just hurting himself again by looking at Draco's photographs carefully. He had a lot of school photographs, including Draco's, so it was a good time killer, since he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

After dinner he finally found his heart for the hard conversation. _'Now or never,' _he encouraged himself.

"Ginny, we need to talk," he started. Ginny had just got up from her chair to clear the table.

"Yes?" She sat down again.

"I've been thinking a lot about us. We can't go on like this. We're both unhappy and it won't change."

"What are you talking about?" she gasped quietly.

"I hurt you, I hurt myself. It won't work, we have to break up."

"What? ! No... You can't! You can't do this to me!" she exclaimed. That was unbelievable! Harry couldn't...

"I'm very sorry, Ginny." He surprised himself with his equanimity, even when Ginny started to cry. _'Well, I'm a cold-blooded freak. Should I really be surprised?'_

"You... Please, you can't... If you need time to think... We'll be okay, just don't... Have you thought about me? !"

"Yes, I have. You deserve better. You're a good person. It's not about you, it's about me." _'So fucking original, Harry! Genius! Do you have any more cheap clichés in stock?' _he thought sarcastically, feeling that his nose was bleeding and his ears were stuffed up. He felt sick.

"No! We're going to be fine. We've been through so many things. You can't just strike it out! You don't know what you're doing." She was shaking her head, still refusing to believe.

"I'm doing the right thing for you and for me. It's over, Ginny. I'm sorry."

This wasn't the end. There were the smashed dishes, screams, tears, two slaps across Harry's face. All of it was mixed with more diplomatic attempts to change his mind. Persuasions, threats, pleading... Then more screams. It looked more like Ginny's monologue, however. Harry was enduring it stoically, letting her take it out on him. He was out of the sensible arguments, he'd already told everything he could, and there was no way she could make him change it. Finally she ran away to pack her bags. And then, hours later, she was gone. Harry wasn't sure if he felt relieved or despaired.

He was extremely tired, but he didn't want to see this place anymore. He packed his own things as fast as he could, though it took about three hours anyway, and flooed into Grimmauld Place, - the inherited house of Blacks. Kreacher was quite surprised to see his master and he wasn't glad about it, of course, but Harry had no orders for the grumbling elf and went straight to the one of the bedrooms, just to throw himself down onto the bed and fall asleep right away. He was dead to the world for about ten hours and woke up in the morning with the terrible headache. The potion and the warm shower helped a lot. After breakfast and another potion he felt rather fine; empty, but fine, despite the wretched state of things. He'd spent the morning and nearly a half of the day, watching through the photo albums of Blacks, especially paying attention to Sirius' photographs. There wasn't much though. Most likely, a lot of his photographs had been destroyed by Walburga Black, along with Sirius' picture on the family tree tapestry, where now was only a burn mark instead of the man's face.

Harry had always thought that this place was too dark, too gloomy and too dusty, but now it strangely felt more homelike than the house where he'd been living with Ginny for almost two months.

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><p>It was nearly evening when Ron firecalled and then flooed in.<p>

"Harry, we have to talk. It's important," he said, looking very concerned.

"What's wrong?" Harry tensed, feeling uneasy. They sat down in the living room.

"Ginny."

"Look, I'm sorry. I know everything turned out quite bad and..." the brunet tried to explain.

"No. Listen to me," Ron interrupted him. "Yesterday, when she came home, I was there and... overheard something that made my hair stand on end. She was talking to our mum and... Merlin, Harry... I don't even know how to tell you _**that**_."

"What is it?"

"Sh-she told about something that... happened back to school. She said she'd suspected that you were seeing someone, and she'd followed you once. Harry, she saw you and him... Malfoy. She saw you kissing him like there was no tomorrow. The one you were talking about... It was him, right?"

"Yes. So what?" Harry sighed, a little annoyed, wondering if Ron visited him to find out the truth, just to shame him and blame him.

"I'm not here to judge you, okay? It's none of my business. It's not what I wanted to talk about," the redhead frowned. _'Surprisingly, I've found out that there're much worse things than you shagging Malfoy,' _he thought, chuckling in his mind at the absurdity of the situation. The thought would be almost laughable if it wasn't that sad.

"So?" Now Harry was really starting to worry.

"She saw you together and she was mad about it so... She found nothing better to do than..." Ron stopped himself for a few moments to take a breath. "For several years she was saving up money for her future Quidditch career. Mum, dad, Charlie and Bill helped her with that. Well, she withdrew all that money from her bank account and went to some witch. One of her stupid friends gave her the idea. Harry, you're cursed."

"Ron, I don't quite understand..."

"Ginny gave all her money to bewitch you to herself. It's a curse. Now I see why you've been acting that strange all these months," Ron said, looking down. Harry gaped in shock and rubbed his hands over his face and hair.

"No... It's unthinkable," he whispered.

"Such things can... drive people crazy, you know. I told Mione. She's already looking for someone who could help you."

"Don't you think it would have been a little fairer to inform _**me**_ first? !" Harry fired up.

"I didn't know how to tell you. I was stunned. My own sister fucked up your brains and she doesn't even feel guilty about it. She only regrets that it didn't work well enough, because you've broken up with her anyway."

"How... could she do this to me? I thought I was just going insane. I... even committed a crime... And I could have done more..." the brunet was gasping, making the coughing sounds and shaking.

"What crime?" Ron became alerted.

"You wouldn't want to know," Harry shook his head. Ron felt terrible, seeing how betrayed his friend looked. "Ron... She ruined everything! Oh, gods... Gods! Go away, please. I need to be alone..."

"To leave you like this? I can't," the redhead refused.

"You don't understand... I hated myself. And I still do. You don't know how many... things I've done," he finally started to sob, feeling sick. Ron didn't know what to say, but he wouldn't leave. Harry cried himself to sleep several hours later right where he was, - in the armchair, curling himself up. His sleep was heavy. He woke up, hearing voices. They sounded familiar, but he couldn't understand a word. They were worried. Someone was tugging him in order to awake. He opened his eyes and it took some time to recognise Hermione. She and Ron were both by his side. Through the deafening pain he still couldn't understand what they were saying. It all sounded to him as an ugly cacophony of sounds. The headache was insufferable. He was tired. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? His friends exchanged glances and stopped tormenting him, so he could go back to sleep.

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><p>Next time he woke up in the ward of St. Mungo's, surrounded by Hermione, Ron, George and some mediwitch. He felt weak, but his head was no longer splitting. He remembered his last talk with Ron and the awareness burned his mind.<p>

"How do you feel?" Ron asked.

"Better," Harry whispered. "Why am I in hospital?"

"We couldn't wake you up for a long time. You had a high fever; you were delirious... You opened your eyes many times, but I don't think you were conscious," Hermione replied.

"Well, I'm conscious now. When can I leave?"

"You can't leave yet, Mr Potter. You need a good rest and a medical care," the mediwitch said. She cast scanning spells on him and left.

"Harry, I called a highly qualified curse-breaker, one of the best in the country. He'll be here today to examine you and to find out what can be done," Hermione said.

"Thanks... What time is it?"

"It's nearly afternoon." This time it was George who answered.

"Glad to see you." Harry managed to smile a little.

"I wish I could say the same," George joked, making Harry's smile widen. His three friends kept him company, amusing him with stories and jokes, and then at four hours the middle-aged man, dressed in long, dark-blue robes, entered the ward. He had brown eyes, brown wiry hair and heavy build.

"Mr Arkel. Thanks for finding the time," Hermione greeted the man. He nodded politely, kissed her hand and shook hands with both Weasley brothers.

"Would you please leave me alone with Mr Potter?" Arkel asked. Hermione was a little disappointed about that, because she'd hoped to see the man's work with her own eyes, but she didn't argue and three Harry's friends left the ward.

Harry quickly realised that the man wasn't just a mediwizard and a curse-breaker, - he had a special gift of seeing people's energy, their auras, and every little changes in it, without using spells. He informed that Harry's aura was mutilated by the curse. It had holes and 'tails' all over. But such changes had appeared only recently due to Harry's attempts to fight the curse; it had hardly been that bad from the start. And those changes also weakened his natural magical protection from curses and other harmful influences.

"So, can you break it?" Harry asked.

"There's nothing to break. You've overpowered it. Sometimes the strong will is enough. In fact, it's the most reliable way to resist. I only see the consequences. I can help you to heal and you'll be fine soon," Arkel promised. He asked a lot of questions, asked about the details of Harry's introspections and said that that had been exactly what had destroyed the influence gradually.

"...But it was dangerous. The curse could destroy your mind because of your resistance. And you're not quite right, thinking that it had to make you forget someone or something. It just had to suppress things, mostly the emotions, which could distract you from the person who requested the service. The pain was training you not to concentrate on such things and it was making you pay attention to something... 'more comfortable' to your mind. You had to feel good and content only being close to said person, but, judging by what you've just told me, it didn't work well with you, so you couldn't find peace anywhere at all. It's not very uncommon. I think you know the reason why it didn't work as it had to. I've seen similar curses. They _**never**_ end well for the victims. And they're usually hard to detect," the man explained.

"Does it mean that some skilled brainwasher can just force the person, for example, to run after the one, who he or she hates?" Harry frowned.

"Theoretically it's possible, but it won't last long and there still will be some aggression. It's not easy to do and it will hardly work for the person with the strong willpower. It will also be too obvious to the other people from the start. It's just as obvious and short-dated as the love potion in that case," Arkel said. Harry immediately remembered Ron 'in love' with Romilda Vane after the potion-spiked Chocolate Cauldrons that had been intended for Harry. He winced and frowned again. How was that any better than the Imperius curse? It was enough to ruin someone's life.

"In your case," the man continued. "There were kindly feelings and trust towards the person, who did this to you, so the influence wasn't noticeable, any aberrations in your demeanour could have been explained by many other reasons. And you've never suspected consciously that your feelings were forced. Subconsciously you could feel it. But human mind is too complicated thing to make such influence perfect and predictable, that's why the consequences are often tragic."

"You sound very reassuring about me, but will these consequences of the curse pass without the trace? Do I still have a chance to go crazy?" Harry asked just in case.

"There's no such possibility anymore, but you need healing. With proper healing you'll be fine in about two weeks."

"Do I really need to stay here to get it?"

"No. You may go home tomorrow. I can visit you there. And you need a lot of rest for a couple of days."

"All right. Thank you," Harry nodded.

"Now I need to speak to all of you: you and your friends," Arkel said. He let Harry's friends in.

"How's Harry?" Ron asked.

"My professional ethics forbids me to discuss it with you. You can speak to Mr Potter about it later. I just want you to know that what your sister has done is a grave crime. I'm working officially and it's my duty to inform the Aurors about it," the man warned, looking mostly at Ron and George as he was talking about the member of their family.

"Does this mean Ginny's going to jail?" Ron sighed. But he was calm, because he'd already thought about such possibility.

"Most likely. The term of imprisonment will depend on her cooperation and her help in finding the one, who provided the service," Arkel explained.

The man left after he and Harry had arranged for their next meeting.

"Harry, how are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm fine... He said he could heal me in two weeks, but... Some damage is irreparable anyway," Harry mumbled and closed his eyes. Hermione placed her hand on his.

* * *

><p>Madam Pomfrey had finished her examining spells and smiled at Draco.<p>

"He's fine. Strong and healthy," she said.

"He?" Draco asked. He'd just realised that strangely he'd never asked if his child was a girl or a boy, and he was already approaching the seventh month of pregnancy.

"Yes, it's a boy," the woman confirmed. Perhaps, the child had been meant to be a boy due to Lucius' reason to stuff Draco with potions. Draco didn't know for sure and, quite frankly, he didn't want to know.

Pomfrey was visiting him every two weeks to make sure everything was fine. Draco was emotionally preparing himself for the role of a parent. His baby was now more active and often reminded about himself by kicking. Not that he was ever forgotten. Draco had also found out that his little boy was responsive to his daddy's touch, though the blond still couldn't decide if that was true or just his imagination. Sometimes he was silently laughing at himself for his own sentimentality when he was rubbing his belly, talking to it at the same time or reading aloud. However, it was mentioned in one of his books that babies could hear and even recognise their mothers' (or, in Draco's case, fathers') voices, distinguishing them from all the other sounds and even preferring them to the voices of the strangers from the outside.

The only thing that had disturbed him sometimes (besides the fears and worries about the forthcoming delivery) had been his occasional nightmares. Once he'd had a dream about the Death Eaters, finding and killing him and his unborn child brutally. The other time he'd been dreaming about the Aurors that had taken his child away after pulling his infant right out of his body 'by the order of the Ministry' that had decided that he wasn't capable of taking care of his child. That was ridiculous, scary and disturbing! And in another dream he'd seen that he'd been bleeding. There had been a large, spreading spot of blood on his pyjama trousers. He'd pulled them down to his knees in pure dread and the blood had been running down the inner sides of his thighs. In addition the child hadn't been moving. He'd started to scream and had been still screaming after awakening. Florie had heard him and had woken Severus up. That time Draco couldn't do without Calming Draught after he'd checked himself to make sure he hadn't been bleeding and his child had been moving; and moving rather actively, most likely, startled by Draco's panic. After that he'd started to take the light and harmless version of Dreamless Sleep again, so nothing like that was bothering him anymore (as well as the dreams about Harry, - just the other occasional dreams he wanted to forget very quickly). He couldn't let anything make him anxious.

Living with Severus was fine, especially when they were walking in the garden or in the forest, which wasn't far away. There was no maddening and importunate care. Just a calm confidence. And Draco was really thankful for it. Maybe everything really wasn't bad after all. Tranquil life seemed to be something he really wanted. No stress, no nervousness, no noise. He needed stability and comfort. And still there was a hole in his heart. He tried to ignore that feeling, but he could hardly forget the hands, embracing and caressing him, the green eyes that had once used to look at him with something resembling love, though, it had been all Draco's own illusions. For Harry it had just been a passion, most likely, or maybe even a transient affection, but in the end all of it had left Draco miserable and burnt down to nothing. But Draco had his little miracle. He wondered if all the pregnant ones felt the same, considering the babies inside of them as something unique and... incredibly odd, in a good sense. He'd never known that there was such a strong connection between the child and the one, who was carrying it inside. It amazed him sometimes. And, thankfully, his son was healthy.

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><p>Once again Draco looked around in the nursery. It was light and cosy, and already furnished with all necessary things. The walls were painted in delicate pastel shades of blue with beautiful silvery ornament.<p>

"I hope you're going to like it," he said, rubbing his belly gently with both hands. There were no movements, - the baby was definitely sleeping. Draco was bored and decided to go down to the living room, hoping that his godfather had already finished his work for today. Walking downstairs, he saw a man on the first floor in passing.

"Severus, are you..." In the last moment he saw that it wasn't Severus down there, so he flinched very startled, but he had no time to see who it was as his foot slid off the step and he was losing his balance. He gasped loudly, starting to fall down forwards, failing to grasp at the banisters. His heart nearly stopped in horror.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" someone exclaimed as quickly as possible. The fall stopped very abruptly. In the state close to the weightlessness Draco was hanging in the air with his eyes closed tight. In panic he wrapped his arms around his belly and opened his eyes hesitantly. He saw that he was hanging over the stone steps. One of the steps was just in an inch from his chin and his belly was nearly touching the cold, hard stone, as well as his knees and feet. Realising that he wasn't breathing, he inhaled sharply and looked down. Neville Longbottom was standing near the stairs. His eyes were wide and his wand was pointed at Draco. Neville's hand was shaking as he was holding the weight of the blonde's body; not the whole weight, of course, but still it wasn't the same thing as levitating the light objects, so it required some physical strength. With the move of his wand he turned Draco's body in the air carefully and lowered it, making the blond sit down on the stairs. Draco grasped at the posts, cut from stone, which supported the banisters, and pressed his forehead against them. He gently rubbed his belly with one hand, not sure if he was comforting his child or himself. Meanwhile, frightened Florie appeared near very confused Neville.

"Is young master hurt? !" she screeched and started to approach tentatively.

"I'm... fine," Draco replied, hardly audible.

"Is master's baby all right?"

"Florie!" Draco shouted furiously. However, the elf had only confirmed Neville's suspicions. Malfoy's chest, arms, and thighs were quite thin; he'd gained very little weight anywhere, except his belly, which was round, and the true reason could hardly be confused with something else. And the way he was touching his belly was just another evidence. What of Draco's gender... Neville was raised in the Wizarding World, after all; even if such things were the rarity, they weren't unheard-of. Not that he wasn't surprised, though; finding pregnant Malfoy was the last thing he'd expected to see in his life.

"Oh..." the elf bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. "Florie didn't mean to betray! Florie just got very scared. Florie is so sorry," she started to cry, closing her eyes with hands, and her ears lowered in shame.

"Thank you very much. Now leave," Draco frowned. The elf disappeared with loud, pitiful sobs. Slowly Draco calmed down, thanking gods that he wasn't hurt. At the best, he could break his jaw and nose; and the worst thing was hurting the child and causing a preterm birth, even if his son was protected by amniotic fluid. Almost seventh month... A child had a chance to survive, but still it was too early. And, in that case, there wouldn't be any birth, because Draco's body wasn't ready, - most likely the child would be cut from his abdomen. Draco made a quiet sobbing sound. He shivered at his thoughts, cursing himself for his clumsiness and inattentiveness, and hating the way his centre of gravity had shifted lately, making him feel unbalanced.

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave an hour ago," he frowned again, this time, at Neville.

"Professor Snape is a little more enthusiastic today," the Gryffindor replied quietly, still looking at Draco's belly.

"Stop looking at me like this!" Draco growled, making Neville finally look at his flushed and angry face instead of his abdomen. "And who gave you a permission to wander about the house?"

"Professor turned me out of the room, where he's working with my parents. He was brewing something and said that I'm kind of a bad luck charm when it comes to the potion-making." Neville rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I understand him completely. I wouldn't trust you to brew tea or to be present at the process. Speaking of trust, you do understand that I'll have to obliviate you now, don't you?" Draco narrowed his eyes. Maybe he would have already done it, hadn't he left his wand in his bedroom.

"Speaking of tea, I wouldn't mind to have some... and we can t-talk this out," the Gryffindor almost stuttered. He didn't want anyone to affect his mind and memory anyway, especially Malfoy, and especially very angry and very pregnant Malfoy. Draco snorted. Having a cosy tea with Longbottom didn't sound appealing at all. But Draco owed him for saving him, even if Longbottom was, in some part, guilty of his misstep, even though unpremeditatedly. Holding the banisters firmly, Draco got up with some effort and started to walk down slowly. Neville came up closer to him and was walking down beside him, just in case. Draco's knees were still slightly shaking because of the frightening episode. With the lump in his throat he suddenly remembered the way he'd been pushed downstairs at school. _'Well, of course, it's the best time to remember something like that!'_ He felt dizzy.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked quietly, noticing that Malfoy was seizing on the banisters so hard that his knuckles were white. The Slytherin was slightly swaying on his feet and his breathing was shaking. The question remained unanswered. Draco never let go of the banisters until he reached the last step. Neville followed him to a table in the living room and they sat down. The child was slightly kicking, and, it seemed, the stress of his father's interrupted fall hadn't affected him at all. It made Draco relax. He called an elf. She appeared immediately and looked at him with her big tearful eyes.

"Florie, bring us tea and my wand."

"Yes, sir..."

"And stop crying. He would have figured out anyway. I don't look fat, I look pregnant," he sighed.

"Master Draco isn't angry with Florie?" she asked doubtfully.

"I'm not angry," Draco sighed again.

"Oooh! Florie will bring master a lot of apples!" she smiled happily.

"Later," he chuckled. A couple of minutes later he and Neville were drinking tea with small cakes.

"Oh, good. I'm thirsty," Neville mumbled after taking a sip of hot tea.

"How are your parents?" Draco asked. He was curious about it, and Severus wasn't very informative about his work, saying that it was still early for any progress after only a little more than a month and after many years of the other methods of healing that hadn't been helpful.

"It's hard to tell. Professor and mediwizards say that they don't see any positive changes yet. They say it's too early to see any results. But I've started to notice something... My mother... I think she... Sometimes she fixes her eyes on me, like... like she's starting to recognise me. Maybe not consciously. Or it could only be my imagination. I don't really want to indulge in wishful thinking, but I've been visiting my parents for many years, so I can notice even the little difference," Neville answered, looking at his steaming cup meditatively.

"Interesting. But I think Severus wouldn't have wasted his time if he saw no sense in this work," Draco shrugged.

"Yeah, right." The Gryffindor blinked, tearing himself out of his pensiveness and looking back at Draco. "So... you live here, too? I had no idea."

"And I want it to remain this way," the blond smirked slightly.

"That doesn't mean you have to obliviate me," Neville objected.

"Why not? Losing a half of an hour of your life won't make any difference to you, whereas to me it will. I'm just saving myself from needless concerns. You have no reason to dramatise the situation."

"Look... I'm not going to give you any trouble."

"You see, I don't want to take any risks. I'm very concerned about the Ministry. They can take me away and lock me up for the experiments or take my child away when he'll be born, just because I'm still suspended and just because I'm Malfoy. I don't trust you."

"I'm... sorry, but it sounds a little paranoid. I don't think they would do such things," Neville noted carefully, without wishing to inflict any wrath at himself.

"Well, excuse me, but I expect nothing good from them and from the other 'good people'. Not to speak of the print media... I've been through enough to become paranoid," Draco replied almost impassively. The Gryffindor became thoughtful again. Of course, he, like many people, knew about Skeeter's article and then there had been enough rumours about some people from the house of Gryffindor, who had been punished for the regular beating and tormenting Draco Malfoy in the beginning of the last school year. That was more than enough to become extremely careful. Malfoy's anxiety wasn't groundless, especially now that he was expecting a child.

"I understand..." Neville said sincerely and sympathetically.

"I doubt that. You're not a son of a Death Eater and you're not pregnant," the blond answered, still unemotionally.

"I'm not a blabbermouth. And why would I do such a thing to professor? We don't like each other, but he helps my family. I wouldn't do any harm to him and his child," Neville assured. Draco nearly choked on his tea.

"His child?" He put the cup down on the table and laughed, wrapping his arms around himself. Seriously, the Gryffindors were so funny, making fools of themselves. "You've just accused me of some kind of incest, you know. Don't make me laugh like this again, if you don't want to try yourself in midwifery right here and now," Draco shook his head, still chuckling. He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. Neville's face was red to the roots of his hair.

"S-sorry... All right, I... jumped to conclusions. But it doesn't change anything."

"You're right, it doesn't, - I still don't trust you. Like a proper Gryffindor, you saved me from breaking my jaw and probably from something much more gruesome. I'm grateful. And yet, I don't want you to blab out my secret to your 'wonderful' friends, even if you mean no harm. With my luck all of it will be on the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet."

"I haven't seen any of my friends since graduation. I only receive some incomprehensible letters from Luna. Everyone's busy with settling their lives, including myself. But that's not the point... I don't want you to obliviate me or do anything to my mind at all. I'm not going to put you and your baby in any danger, I promise. I won't tell anyone. I... I could give you an oath. Even the Unbreakable Vow, if you want me to. Will that do? I'll be visiting for many months, I think. If you had my oath, you could stop hiding when I come here and there would be no need to obliviate me every time we meet by accident."

"Um... Better. Last time you weren't that convincing," Draco shrugged, slightly tapping the tip of his wand on the table, very amused by seeing the shocked eyes in front of him.

"What?" Neville exclaimed.

"That was a joke," the blond chuckled.

"I'm glad you're so entertained," the Gryffindor frowned a little. "I was always terrified by the idea of someone screwing up my mind. Call it a phobia, if you please."

"From now on, I think I'm going to have a phobia too, - stairs," Draco sighed.

"So, do you agree to take my oath or not?"

"I'm confused... I have to weigh the pros and cons. Even my only friend doesn't know," the blond thought aloud mockingly. In fact, he'd already made the decision; he just liked to see the Gryffindor nervous. "On the other hand, I'm in a good mood today, regardless of what just happened."

"I'm lucky then," Neville mumbled, a little annoyed.

"I'll take your oath. Just a Wizard's Oath." the blond said. It was less complicated than the Unbreakable Vow and they wouldn't need the third person to conduct a ritual. And it was enough, combined with all the Gryffindor's honesty (even if in some cases it was no more than just a strongly exaggerated stereotype, as Draco had already found out more than once).

Draco, indeed, was feeling better because of the fact that there was no need to hide in his rooms anymore every time Longbottom would be visiting, and that happened three times a week now.

* * *

><p>"Severus, would you, please, cast a scanning spell on me?" the blond asked drowsily when the man had finished his work. Neville had already left and his parents had been taken back to St. Mungo's by the mediwizard.<p>

"But you were scanned two days ago. Is something bothering you?" The man narrowed his eyes.

"No, not really. Just the unpleasant incident today; I nearly fell down the stairs. I just want to make sure everything's fine."

"Let's see..."

"Well?" Draco asked five minutes later when Severus finished the examination.

"I'm sure he's absolutely fine," the man said.

"What is he doing?"

"He's sucking his thumb, apparently."

"Really? I didn't know... I didn't know they can do it... inside," Draco smiled, slightly raising his eyebrows.

"I believe it's their way to soothe themselves," Severus shrugged. He turned to leave the living room, but Draco wrapped his arms around the man's neck from behind, putting some of his weight on him, and pressed his face to his shoulder. Severus didn't stop, but slowed down, and Draco was following him like this, so tired that he was hardly able to drag his legs along. He hadn't had enough sleep last night and that was showing now.

"Your grandson and I are lucky to have you," he purred.

"Grandson?" Severus quirked up his eyebrow.

"You're my father in every way but blood. I've been your prince since the day I was born. You're our family and we both love you. And we know that you love us, too," the blond mumbled sleepily.

"Draco, spare my old back. You've become too heavy for such surges of tenderness," the man sighed almost softly.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not old. Your duelling partners could confirm it, as well as their healers. Therefore, you're strong enough to take us both upstairs in your arms, so we could take our royal nap."

"I'm afraid I have to decline such honour. If you're so traumatised by today's incident on the stairs, I could levitate you up."

"No..." Draco whined. "I don't want to be levitated."

"Fine," Severus gave up, frowning a little. The whining wouldn't have stopped otherwise. "But I won't carry you upstairs," he warned. He took Draco's arm and led him up unhurriedly, keeping an eye on him to make sure he wouldn't trip over the steps. Once they were upstairs, he took tired and drowsy Draco in his arms and picked him up, cursing and damning the entire world in his thoughts. The boy was, indeed, heavy, which, certainly, wasn't surprising. But still, Severus decided to play up to Draco's childish (and yet calculating and cunning) demeanour, feeling that there was a search for the comfort and attention behind it.

"Don't get used to it," the man said nevertheless. The blond smiled, very pleased with himself. Who else could manipulate Severus Snape like this? By the time Severus reached Draco's rooms, the boy was already asleep in his arms. Florie appeared silently to open the door to the young master's bedroom, so Severus wouldn't have to put the boy down to open it. The elf slipped into the room, shook the pillows up and pulled the blanket off the bed, doing everything very quietly not to wake her 'poor, so tired young master' up. The man put his precious burden into bed and turned the boy on his side, deciding that it was probably the only comfortable position for him to sleep. Carefully he took Draco's silk dressing gown off, leaving him in his pyjamas. Slightly disturbed boy mumbled something, but didn't wake up. Florie covered him with the blanket, closed the curtains, because the sun was still up, and left the room along with Severus.


	18. 17 Because I'm broken

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

_**Thanks everyone for reviewing!**_ Aquarinus (I'm glad you got your answers :). Thanks!), Lilyth (Glad you're not disappointed! Thank you!), Slashie (Still hate him? I hoped I convinced everyone :). But I hope you're going to keep enjoying the story! :) Thanks for reviewing!), Heart shaped box (Thanks for your comment!), lizziemarie0529 (Here it is! Thank you :) ), Sun (But he gave an Oath ;). Anyway, enjoy!), Yamiga (I'm not sure his life is perfect. He's just trying to keep his past away as best as he can. But I understand what you mean ;). Thanks a lot!), Lidsworth (I wouldn't call them friends, Draco is still Draco. I'm sure you understand ;). But it's not Hogwarts, so... :) Thank you!), buttercup123 (Thanks for your review!), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Haha! I'm not sure Severus is comfortable with that, but he's used to Draco's hormonal mood swings and he can always allege to them when he hears something like that :). Thanks!), AFLlover (Thank you!), lostsouloftheunderworld (Thanks for your reviews! I never liked her, too, but I presume you mean you don't like her in my story. As for me, when in the book her crush on Harry was first mentioned and she was even talking about him _**all the time **_despite her very young age, I found it a bit strange and it seemed to me that she was after his name somehow, because she didn't even know what kind of person he really was. It means she had her own image of him. I may be wrong, of course. In the subsequent books it changed, perhaps, but even if she had a break, in my head she remained an obsessed fangirl. I just can't help it :). Thanks, again!), Makeupholic (I agree! Thank you :)), MDarKspIrIt (Thanks so much!), Arcania (Yes, he has someone to tease now :). Thanks!), Fancine (I'm happy, too. Thank you :) ), sara (I doubt Severus finds it cute :D. I hope you're going to like the next chapter :). Thanks for your review!), Battery (Thank you! Enjoy!), wyldfire(Thanks a lot :)). Here!), borderlinecrazy (Thank you so much for your comment :)! All the answers lie below :) )

* * *

><p><em><strong>17. Because I'm broken<strong>_

Harry's healing process wasn't painful, but it was exhausting the first couple of times. He couldn't understand what exactly the man was doing. Arkel was just sitting in front of him in the armchair, plunged in some kind of a meditation with his eyes closed, and looking very much like he was sleeping. Harry just had to sit in relaxed position. All the process lasted for about two hours a day, and then the man was leaving, looking very tired. But Harry started to feel better very soon.

"Well, I think it's time to finish," Arkel said after a little more than a week of their healing sessions.

"So soon?" Harry asked in surprise.

"You may feel some headaches for a few more days, but they won't be as severe as before."

"So... I'm all right then?"

"You will be very soon," Arkel promised. Harry wasn't feeling well, despite of the man's words. Physically he was fine, but he was in depression, nevertheless.

In the evening Harry told Ron about the end of his healing. His best friend visited every day. Hermione wasn't complaining that Harry felt more comfortable and opened with her boyfriend than with her, she'd just let it be.

"Bloody hell, you're finally free of it," the redhead sighed in relief at the news.

"What difference does it make? I just won't have those fucking headaches anymore, that's all," Harry replied quietly. "How's your family taking all of it?"

"Well... Everyone's shocked. Mother is standing up for Ginny, pitying her; she gives her excuses. And the others... just like me, I guess. As a brother, I'm very concerned about what's going to happen to her; and as your friend... She has done a terrible thing, anyway," Ron sighed.

"I want to see her," Harry said suddenly.

"Why? I thought you wouldn't want even to hear her name anymore."

"I just want to know what I did to deserve it."

"You... have a point, of course, but... Are you sure?"

"Yes."

They flooed into the Burrow. Everyone seemed to be happy to see Harry, but he couldn't feel the same. Ginny was placed under home arrest till the day of her trial.

"She's in her room," Ron said, feeling uneasy and already regretting that he agreed to let Harry see her at all, because his friend was obviously already too upset for any normal talk. However, he had every right... They went upstairs together. Ron decided to stay close, just in case. He knocked at the door of her room. No answer followed. It wasn't surprising, as she was hardly talking to anyone at all. He opened the door anyway, after waiting for almost a minute. She was near the window and didn't look back to see who had entered the room.

"What?" She sighed with irritation.

"Nothing. Just wanted to look into your eyes," Harry replied. His voice was low. She turned to him in surprise. But then she looked at him coldly.

"What do you expect to see?" she asked.

"I've just remembered what you were telling me when I was breaking up with you. Such hypocrisy. You acted so naturally when you were trying to lay the blame on me. Never expected anything like that even from my enemies. But you..." Harry shook his head.

"Then what did Malfoy do, so you were lusting after him like an idiot? Do you think he wasn't using anything like that to lure you into his bed? I doubt that he wasn't."

"Don't judge others by yourself. Draco is too proud to win someone's feelings, good and desirable feelings, by screwing up their mind. You have no pride, I believe, just selfishness. Now look what you've done to your own family."

"Listen to yourself: 'he's so proud, self-respecting and not selfish at all'. It's unhealthy," she shrugged and sat down on the chair. "Do you remember what his father did to me when I was eleven? He gave a horcrux to a child! I nearly died. They insulted my family at every occasion. And then I saw you kissing him! We were so good to you and you betrayed us like that! You were fucking that..."

"Right," he interrupted, starting to go into a temper. "Because I loved him," he said, feeling strangely satisfied when he saw a shade of hurt and angriness on her face for a second. "I still love him. And he's the only person I betrayed. It's not your place even to discuss it. But you had it your way, I've lost him. I hope you're happy now that you've ruined my life and me." He felt the way his own hands clenched into fists.

"There was nothing I could ruin. I did what I had to. You had a very short memory if you decided to be with that scum. He was just using you. I am the person who loves you. I could've given you everything," Ginny said. Her calmness was infuriating. He'd hoped to see some regrets, but he saw none. She regretted nothing she had done to him.

"Love? What the hell are you talking about? ! Turning me into insane zombie is a new way to show love? ! You violated my mind, ruined everything I had: my memories, my emotions, to replace it with some... pathetic surrogate!" he shouted. With that he stormed out of the room before he had a chance to lose control completely and do something irretrievable. He realised that that had been a very bad idea to visit, but he'd had a little hope to find any, just any, excuse for Ginny. He'd found nothing. Just to make his day worse, it seemed, he stumbled at Mrs Weasley downstairs. She tried to talk to him, tried to convince him to forgive her daughter and not to testify against her upon a trial. He refused to discuss it. Seething and shaking with anger, he flooed home. That had been a very bad idea, indeed...

* * *

><p>Ron felt anxious about his friend and decided to visit him again in the evening, just in case. He didn't like what he saw when he flooed into the house of Blacks. Harry was completely smashed, sitting on the floor of the living room.<p>

"Harry..." The redhead tried to help him to get up so he could take him to the bedroom. But Harry was already unable to stand on his feet.

"Ron... I'm... sick," that was all he managed to say. Ron dragged him to the bathroom as soon as he could. Once they reached the toilet, the brunet threw up. He was weeping and vomiting. When he was absolutely empty, Ron made him sit down into the bathtub fully dressed and turned the cold water on. At first Harry was whining, swearing like a trooper and trying to get out of the bathtub, but then he put up with it. He became just a little more sober. Ron helped him to get to his bedroom and change into pyjamas. The room and everything in it seemed to be going round even when Harry was lying in bed.

"I'm tired. I'm so tired, Ron... I want peace," he nearly whispered. The redhead just sighed.

The hangover was severe when Harry woke up. He took his time to sit up. Ron was still there for him as a true friend he was. He was sleeping in the armchair.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry whispered, even if his friend couldn't hear.

* * *

><p>When Ron woke up, he flooed home, but returned later to make sure Harry wouldn't get drunk again. He noticed the large photo album on the table of the living room. Every student had received a similar album after the graduation. There were <em><strong>a lot<strong>_ of photographs from different years since their first one. Some pictures were extracted out of the album and were lying next to it. They all were Draco Malfoy's photographs. There also was a wand on the table... Malfoy's old wand. Ron recognised it quickly. When they'd been escaping from the Malfoy Manor, Harry had taken Draco's wand away by force, and had been using it until he'd repaired his own. Harry followed Ron's curious look.

"Yes, his wand. I don't think I've ever told him that I still had it, and he's never asked. It's been here, in this house, all the time. I thought I'd return it to him sometime, but we broke up before I could. I like this wand. It was good for me in fighting... Almost as good in my hand as my own," Harry smiled tiredly. He seemed to be far away in nostalgic pensiveness.

"I remember..." Ron said quietly, nodding.

"You'd be surprised if you only thought how many things were tying us together through years."

"So... You really love him?"

"I do. I think I was in love with him long before I knew it. Sounds crazy?"

"Absolutely crazy," Ron nodded with a small smirk.

"Yeah..." Harry sighed.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" Harry muttered darkly.

"I don't know, but right now you're only pitying yourself and living in your memories. You can't go on like this, Harry. You must do something. For Merlin's sake, if you want Malfoy so much, why don't you talk to him?" _'Can't believe I'm saying this... Do anything. Malfoy or not; just stop drinking...'_

"I keep thinking about it every day, but, I told you, he wouldn't want me back. I've hurt him so bad, Ron. I treated him so poorly; I lied to him and then... I can't even describe what was happening to him when I was leaving. And I did _**nothing**_ about it. Do you remember him fainting? He looked sick for months."

"Yes. He wasn't all right, I noticed."

"It was after we broke up. He wasn't healthy, he had a lot of problems, and... I made it even worse. He was stuffing himself with potions and couldn't live without them. And then... those fucking rumours... Someone said Draco was dying. And again, I did _**nothing**_. I did nothing to check if that was true or not. I did nothing to stop those rumours behind his back. I just ignored it. What if he's... No, I don't want to think about it."

"Maybe you should stop blaming yourself for everything. It wasn't your fault as we all have found out," the redhead frowned a little.

"Sorry. I know it's all pretty hard for you and your family."

"We'll go through this. We're talking about _**you**_ now."

"Ron, I have to see him. I have to... I just want to know if he's all right now. I owe him an explanation and an apology for everything. Not sure if he needs it from me, but I don't think I can do anything else. It's too late."

"Do you think he... loves you?"

"Yes... At least, he did. I saw it... He never told me, but he didn't have to."

"Talk to him, so you could go on with or without him."

"I want to go on _**with**_ him. The problem is that it's hardly possible..."

"You won't find out if you stay here and keep drinking. You're just continuing what my sister has started, - ruining yourself. You have to get out of this."

"I just can't stop thinking that I could fight it sooner when it wasn't too late."

"Oh, yes, sure! You're a Saviour, so you just _**have to**_ be almighty enough to prevent any disaster before it happened or even before anyone planned it! Stop it, Harry. It's really getting old."

"Tomorrow... I'll talk to him tomorrow. I want to apologise. I just can't keep putting it off."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"No. But that's not a problem. I know how to find him. Unknowingly he's taken care of it."

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't sleep even if he tried to convince himself that he had to have a good sleep before facing his fate whatever it had in store for him. Draco's gift, the silver compass, was lying next to him on his pillow, and he couldn't take his eyes off it. The dark-blue sodalite pointer was directed towards the North-northeast mark on the compass card. He'd already drawn a line on the map to know in which direction he had to move, however, he didn't know how far he would have to fly. It didn't matter. The broom was the best choice of conveyance, so he wouldn't miss the right place, orienting on the shining of the compass, which had to appear sooner or later. Everything was already decided, and right now he had to sleep. But, instead, his head was full of memories. He was especially taken up with the thought of the way he'd taken Draco's warm and loving arms off himself. Strangely it had been probably the most hurting part of their break up, because it had become the beginning of the end along with Draco's eyes - pained and betrayed...<p>

He fell asleep only when the night almost reached its end. Since he hadn't had enough sleep, the morning was unpleasant. It took him three cups of coffee to wake his mind up. He took a bath and shaved, not very pleased with what he'd seen in the mirror. But later, when he was flying on his broom, the wind shook him up, hitting his face, and the feeling was enjoyable. He checked the compass from time to time to make sure if he was moving in the right direction. One thought made him feel sick: what if the rumours had been true and Draco had been lethally ill? What if the compass would bring him to Draco's grave? _'Please... Please be okay, Draco... I'll never forgive myself if you're not. Be okay...'_ he chanted to himself. After more than four hours of flight, the compass started to shine. The light was faint, but it was getting brighter very gradually. The closer he was getting to the right area, the faster his anxious heart was beating. Soon he was nearly hyperventilating with deep worry, so he descended...

* * *

><p>Draco started to notice that he was getting tired more often. His back hurt almost every evening, and, in addition, he couldn't inhale as deep as usually, so his breaths slightly shortened. That was normal, but frustrating. He felt heavy and clumsy. Changes weren't just physical. Draco, as he'd expected, had started feel uneasy, walking down the stairs. He was extra careful every time he had to go down, and sometimes it was making him nervous. He thought it was foolish, but there was no way he could convince himself. Florie was often looking after him when he was going down, just in case. She was fussing over him quite often, checking if he was eating well, if he was having enough sleep, but she wasn't meddlesome at the same time. Draco's tiredness was the worst thing for him and his heart was working hard. Actually, all of it was irritating! He never thought it was his baby's fault though; everyone else's, but not baby's. Since Neville was now visiting quite often and offered his help in the garden as some kind of a payment for the healing of his parents (and Severus wasn't very fond of his presence when it wasn't very necessary, anyway), Draco sometimes was venting his vexation on him. Neville had patience, a lot of patience; he had to remind himself about it, from time to time. But mostly they were just talking while the Gryffindor was busy with plants. Their talks were nothing in particular, easy talks, until another of those Draco's moods. And Neville was ignoring or silently suffering from those wild mood swings.<p>

Draco received another letter from Goyle, who wrote that he was going to visit. He had some news and wanted to talk to Draco in person. It was also a chance for the blond to tell his friend about _**his**_ 'news', though he felt uneasy about it. On the other hand, at worst, he still could obliviate Goyle, who had never been very good at blocking such things, unless something had changed; they hadn't seen each other for a long time, after all. Anyway, he hoped to find some understanding.

* * *

><p>They almost finished their dinner when the owl flew in through the window. Severus grumbled something quietly.<p>

"What is it?" Draco asked curiously.

"McGonagall's owl."

"Is she still trying to convince you to teach the next school year?"

"She's trying to do precisely that," the older man sighed.

"And?"

"_**And**_ she fails," Severus shrugged.

"But you will return to teaching when your... grandson will go to school, won't you?" Draco chuckled. The man frowned a little.

"It's quite a distant future, don't you think? And, besides, what if he'll be sorted to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or, Merlin forbid, Gryffindor?" he asked with some amusement on his face.

"Don't say such terrible things. He'll be a real Slytherin, I'm sure of it. If not, I'll cut the useless Sorting Hat into pieces," Draco shrugged with a small smile. Suddenly the wards around the house made them aware of someone's presence.

"Are you waiting for someone?" the blond asked.

"No," Severus shook his head.

"I'll go upstairs," Draco said and took the last sip of tea before he got up from the table and left.

When Severus went out of the house to see, who that uninvited guest was, he couldn't believe his eyes at first.

"Mr Potter? What an unpleasant surprise." The man folded his hands on his chest. There, in front of him, was Harry, looking pale and somehow pathetic, like he'd known all the hardships in the world. His green eyes had lost their glitter and his cheeks looked hollow.

"Professor... I... May I see Draco?" Harry stuttered a little. He was so anxious that he could feel the pulsation in his temples. "I need to talk to him."

"Why should I bother him with something so insignificant?"

"We have to talk. Please. It's very important."

"I beg to differ. Your insolence is boundless I see. I think you should leave now."

"Please... It won't take long," Harry almost begged. Snape examined him from head to foot and allowed himself some time to think.

"I'll ask him," the man finally said with irritation. He had to tell Draco anyway, even if it was wiser to turn Potter out neck and crop, not to give his godson another reason to fall apart, but Draco would probably find out about this visit sooner or later.

The man knocked at the door of Draco's sitting room and entered when he was invited to come in.

"You have a guest," Severus informed. Draco closed the book he'd been reading.

"But... So soon? Goyle wrote..." He was confused.

"It's not Goyle."

"N-no... Please, don't tell me it's someone from the Ministry," Draco gasped before the man had a chance to explain. He thought he was about to faint, scared rigid.

"It's Potter," Severus said and was watching his godchild's reaction. The boy gave him a glance of his widened eyes, but then turned them away. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He was shocked and just couldn't speak for some time. At first, he had the urge to say that his godfather had a very bad sense of humour, but he knew the man wouldn't joke like that. Dozens of thoughts were tormenting his mind, dozens of emotions. Disbelief was the strongest one.

"W-what does he want?" he finally whispered. "How did he..." _'Of course... The compass.'_

"Should I send him away?" Severus asked. Draco pressed his trembling hands to his face. It was unbelievable. _**Too**_ unexpected. He didn't know what to do.

"Fine. Let him in. Let's hear what he wants to say," he said quietly after a minute of the internal fighting. But he still wasn't sure if the decision was right. Severus nodded and left. When he went out of the house again, he noticed that Potter's face paled just as Draco's when he'd told him about the visit. He looked at Snape impatiently.

"I'm warning you: hurt him and I'll bury you alive in the garden," the man said quite seriously and let Potter in. Harry nodded almost absently. Very laconically the older man explained how to get to Draco's room. Severus wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing at all. It would have been wiser not to let Draco know. However, it was too late to think about it. Harry went upstairs. Every step was almost painful. He swallowed hard, standing in front of the door, and knocked.

"Yes?" Draco sighed. _'His voice...'_ Harry entered, but it seemed harder than moving a mountain. He held his breath, when he saw Draco sitting on the canapé, covered with the blanket and a pillow was propping up his back. This wasn't good, Harry knew it. As far as he knew, Draco hardly ever received his guests like this, even if those guests were very unwelcome. And Snape's words about hurting... That could have meant that upsetting Draco could make things worse. _'So, he's ill. He's really ill...'_ Harry thought very concerned and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt dizzy. He knew that the talk wouldn't be pleasant anyway, but he'd known it before.

"Hi..." he whispered. _'Goodness...'_ "May I sit down?"

"If you must," Draco replied unemotionally. He couldn't look back at him, just couldn't... Harry sat down in the armchair and looked at Draco again. The blond was looking at the cover of the book on his lap absently. _'The Symbolism of the Ancient Celtic Magic,'_ Harry read the title, but then looked at the blonde's face again. Even if he was ill, he wasn't looking as sick as he'd been looking the last months at school. Pale, but not so unhealthy. He looked like he was just tired and something about him felt vulnerable. His features were pointed, but he looked almost indifferent. _'The mask...'_ Draco always had these pointed features when he was angry or nervous, even if nothing else was showing it. Harry hadn't known how soft they could be before Draco and he had got together. The brunet closed his eyes again and inhaled, trying to collect himself and clear his thoughts. He had known, it wouldn't be easy, but now, when he saw Draco, his emotions swept over him. He'd sworn himself that he wouldn't carry any vain hopes, that he would meet Draco to explain himself, to talk to him without expecting forgiveness. But now he was nervous and confused. He wanted his love back no matter the cost. But how? Was it even possible? Was it enough to beg for a chance? He suddenly realised that he would be lost forever without him, even if he deserved it. _'I'm a goddamned Gryffindor. It's hit or miss...'_ he thought gravely.

"Draco, I'm not here to make excuses, but I want you to know everything," he started. Draco couldn't respond. He was tense and nervous, and yet, tried to keep the blank expression on his face. Not immediately he realised that his eyes were roaming about the room. He was feeling a lump in his throat and his heart felt heavy inside the chest. His son kicked him slightly, but he suppressed the urge to lay a hand on his belly - he was hiding it under the thick blanket. _'I made my bed and I have to lie on it,'_ Harry mused, summoning up his courage.

"I know you probably hate me. That's all right; I hate myself, too. I've done a terrible thing to you. It was unfair and... cruel. I thought... Oh, god... I didn't know what was happening to me. I would have never done anything like that to you; to _**us**_," He was almost taken by emotions, his voice was trembling, and he thought he was about to lose it before he could say everything he wanted to say. "I think I should go straight to the point," he sighed and made a short pause. "Ginny saw us together, you and me, and she... She wanted me to be with her and found some witch, who could affect my mind; my emotions mostly. That was a curse. In fact, she didn't care what it was. The ends justify the means, - that's what she thought. She paid for that to force me to be with her. That's how it started. When I was leaving you, I was... dying inside; I know I was, but... My emotions were in a mess. It's hard for me to talk about it. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense. I hope it does; hope you can imagine, how it works. You were born and raised in this world, so you have an idea about that kind of things. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it, but... It was driving me crazy. I've done a lot of things I now regret. I was losing my mind and I nearly lost it. But the healer said I overpowered it. It took time. It took too long..." It sounded terrible, Harry knew it, but he was so overfilled with emotions that he thought he was about to explode.

"And what do you want from me? Pity?" Draco shrugged. He thought that there had to be some catch, however, even if he was disappointed in Harry and hurt, he doubted that Harry could compose such story. Draco was so confused... On the one hand, he would have given a lot for that to be true; on the other hand, it was so painful and unexpected that he was emotionally stunned. It was like a dream, and it wasn't a good dream. He didn't know for sure. It was hard to decide.

"I want my life back..." Harry replied. He lowered his eyes and closed them. He was ready to crawl on his hands and knees, if necessary.

"Good luck with that," Draco said coldly. He knew if he let himself go, just a little, he'd just explode with tears. He was still avoiding looking at Harry.

"I wish I was better with words right now. Draco, I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough to fight the curse. I... had no idea it was there. But I think I... tried. I miss you so much..." Harry whispered in the end. It was a painful whisper. He noticed the way Draco's chin was quivering, like he was about to start crying, and Harry knew he would join if the blond cried. "I missed you even when I wasn't realising it. Again... I regret a lot of things, but leaving you was... I don't know what to do to set things right. But I'd do anything. I don't know how I could live without you all that time. I can't even start to explain how much I want us back."

"Is that so? To what end, I wonder?"

"Not sure if I deserve a chance... Of course, I don't... But if you're willing to give me one... If there's anything I can do to gain your trust back, I'll do whatever it takes. I'm yours, Draco," Harry said, feeling that he was really at Draco's mercy. He didn't mind though.

"What makes you think that I need you?" The blond still tried to sound indifferent, but there was an ache in his chest and burning in the back of his head. His mask was so fragile, it could shatter any moment. He knew it wouldn't end well.

"I just want you to know that I would have never left you of my own free will. Never."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure! You wanted to spend your life with me, but a Weasley bitch has ruined your plans," the blond chuckled bitterly, darkly and nervously.

"What if I did? What if I still do?"

"You don't expect me to believe it, do you? It's ridiculous. I was naive, but, I hope, I'm not anymore. I agree it wasn't only your fault, but try to imagine how it looks for me. I stopped waiting for you long ago. I convinced myself that you were no longer a part of my life and that you'd never be again."

"I'd do anything to change what I did, but I can't."

"That's right, you can't."

"So, there's nothing I could do? Nothing at all?" Harry whispered. The qualms of conscience tortured him. Powerlessness was unbearable. _'Do you love me, Draco?'_ he wanted to ask, but decided against it. He didn't want to corner Draco with such questions; that would be simply unfair, and, most assuredly, it would only enrage the blond. He felt unprepared for this conversation and regretted that he hadn't given himself more time to recover after what had happened. He regretted that he wasn't more eloquent, more convincing, stronger. He hated the sickening feeling of helplessness.

"It's not that simple, especially because of some circumstances. You have no idea... But don't worry, you'll be running like hell in a moment. I hope you will," Draco said with the shaky voice. Somehow, Harry was almost sure that he was going to be hexed, but he didn't move and kept looking at Draco. Against his expectations, the blond just stood up slowly, throwing back the blanket. _'And why not?'_ Draco thought. Harry gasped when he saw his belly. The blond was sure, Harry was about to rub his spectacles or his eyes to make sure he was really seeing it.

"What..." Harry gasped again.

"What does it look like?" the blond shrugged. "Looks like I'm pregnant? Well, I am."

"But how..."

"Long story short: Lucius screwed up my life more than I thought he did. This time I'm not complaining though."

"The baby is... mine?" Harry asked after a pause. He couldn't believe it. It was too much. He'd been dreaming about seeing Draco again, about talking to him, begging for a chance. And now he'd found him heavy with their child... He couldn't believe the baby was someone else's. It was his.

"Who do you take me for? !" Draco frowned, sounding angry and offended.

"I'm sorry... It's just..."

"Unexpected, yes." He'd thought Harry would look at him with disgust, but, instead, he was rather fascinated (and shocked, of course).

"It means that all those months... My God... I thought you were ill." Harry's thoughts were so chaotic. No, Draco wasn't joking or something. He was really pregnant, no matter how hard it seemed to believe it.

"Disappointed?"

"No. No, Draco." For a couple of minutes he was speechless. "Draco, please, tell me what can I do?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't trust you," _'I won't survive it if you're going to hurt me again,'_ "You don't know what it was like for me. Even if that wasn't quite your fault, you nearly ruined me. I'm carrying your child, but it doesn't give you any right to be here," Draco said. He was losing his outward pathetic excuse for calmness, he was getting too nervous, so, without a notice, he retreated to the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. For a few minutes he was pacing up and down the room, then washed his face with cold water and closed his eyes, taking deep breathes. His both hands were on his belly. He noticed that he was trembling a little. His fragile peace of mind was disturbed and he hated the feeling. Only now he realised how fragile it had really been. Harry just had had to come and take it away, like he hadn't taken away enough already. Something was destroyed... Again. Something was pulling Draco back to the despair and pain. The feeling was a little too familiar.

He came back to his sitting room, praying the gods that Harry had left. But he was still there, so Draco's tension was only growing.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

"You didn't say you didn't want me here. You just said that you didn't trust me," Harry replied, but he didn't like what he said. He knew that was a bad choice of words.

"You're self-assertive, stubborn idiot! Impudent bastard! If you think that fortune favours the bold then you're a fool! You're a fool!" the blond fired up.

"Call me as you like. Just tell me that you don't care about me, tell me you want me to leave, and I'll leave. Not because I want to, but because I don't want to upset you. Just tell me what to do, otherwise, I'll stay out there, near the house, and I'll be waiting for you to decide. I would have never left you, Draco. I couldn't fight it... And I'm very sorry that I wasn't strong enough." Harry was shaking now. "You have no idea how much I regret it. And now I just don't know how to deal with the consequences." Now it was Harry, who tried to stay calm, but he was failing, too. It was bad, really bad, especially when he heard Draco's erratic breathing. Suddenly the blond came closer, grabbed his hand and pressed it against his belly.

"Can you feel it?" he whispered. Harry could. The baby, _**his**_ baby, was moving. It felt so real and he wasn't ready for this.

"Yes..." he replied hardly audible.

"Good. I want you to feel and remember it. I want you to live with it, aware of what you've lost! Because you've lost it," Draco hissed, but his voice started to rise gradually. He was shaking all over. "I want to hurt you like you've hurt me. You may consider that you've played your role. You fucked me and, voilà, I'm pregnant. And let's finish with your participation in this. When I really needed you and your concerns, you were snogging with Weasley in front of me! You decided to show up with your weepy story when I'm seven months pregnant; well, excuse me if I'm not very glad to see you. I don't want you anywhere near _**my**_ child. And if you'll ever try to approach him or even steal him, because I don't know you and what else I should expect from you... Try anything like that and, I swear, I'll bite your head off. Even if I die, giving birth, you won't get _**my**_ son. Severus will take a good care of him, I'm sure of it."

The fact that Draco could even think of him as a threat to him or a child, wounded Harry deeply and painfully. Draco hated to see him so weak and broken, but liked it at the same time; it could be his little revenge if only he wasn't _**this**_ hurt himself. On the other hand, he didn't care anymore, because he'd lost control over himself.

"Draco, wait..." the brunet begged, already feeling tears, escaping his eyes. He thought he'd finally found the words to say (even if he wasn't sure they would change anything), but it was too late and he wasn't given a chance.

"Get out!" Draco shouted. He pushed Harry out of the room and slammed the door hard. Both were crying aloud: Harry near the door outside and Draco on the other side of it. It seemed the blonde's wail could be heard throughout the house.

"Why have you come here? ! How could you do this to us? ! I wanted a new life! I wanted to forget you and to go on, but you've ruined everything! You dare to turn up at this house after everything... I kept myself from thinking about you; I tried to convince myself that you were dead! And I wish you were! Stay away from us! Stay away!" he yelled, hitting the door with his palms. Harry ran... He ran downstairs and out of the house. He grabbed his hair with both hands and screamed, bending down, when he was outside, but Draco's words and cries would be ringing in his ears for a long time to come...

Severus had heard what had happened (it had been hard not to) and quickly went to Draco's room, cursing himself for letting it happen. He found his godson sitting near the wall on his knees, shaking, crying and breathing with difficulty. The man forced a stiff dose of Calming Draught into the boy's throat. He carried him to his bed and put the tense body down carefully. The potion started to work soon, suppressing the pain and making Draco's body go limp upon its compulsion. The boy's eyes were closed, he could only emit the convulsive sighs sometimes and his shoulders were slightly trembling, but he was still holding Severus' sleeve in his weakening hand. Florie was standing near the footboard of the bed, crying noiselessly and pulling her ears down in dismay, feeling helpless and very concerned. Severus was sitting near the bed. Even if it was the right time for saying something, and he knew, it wasn't, he wouldn't say anything. It was better than to get off with something inappropriate like 'give it time'. Severus always laughed in his thoughts when he heard someone giving such stupid and banal advice to the other person, who was down in the dumps. It always seemed to him that giving such advices implied to be more specific. How much time exactly? A week? A year? Ten years? And, since no one could give an exact date of the day when the pain would stop (especially given that they weren't talking about their own pain in that matter, but someone else's), the advise was useless, even annoying. A silent presence was better than that. He only left when Draco had fallen asleep and let the man's sleeve go. He firecalled Pomfrey and the mediwitch flooed in soon. Quietly she examined sleeping Draco, without waking him up, to find out if he was fine, at least, physically. He was weak, but she didn't find anything threatening.

* * *

><p>But, anyway, Draco's breakdown had taken him to his bed and he refused to leave it, feeling weak and hardly eating at all.<p>

On the fourth day Neville entered his bedroom after knocking several times and gaining no response. The room was dark; all the dense, heavy curtains were closed and the Gryffindor couldn't see anything at first. He approached one of the windows and opened the curtain. He immediately heard the pained moan from the depths of the room and saw where the bed was. The migraine hit Draco and he covered his head, pulling the blanket up. Neville closed the curtain back, blocking the 'evil light'.

"What do you want?" Draco asked with irritation.

"You've stopped going out. I just wanted to know if you were all right," Neville replied. When he'd visited two days ago, Florie had told him that her young master was ill and imprisoned himself within four walls. Actually, she'd looked at him with hope, like he could try to do something, but he hadn't ventured to enter Malfoy's rooms like that. It seemed quite bold; and yet, he was there, at last.

"Gods... What does it matter to you? Are you familiar with the word 'privacy'? You're in my bedroom, by the way," the blond grumbled.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh... Nothing. I only wanted a quiet life, but, alas, the Gryffindors keep invading this house."

"What? Someone else saw you?"

"Yes... Someone else."

"So, that's why you decided to lock yourself up?" The Gryffindor was itching to ask, who exactly had driven Malfoy to such a state of depression and how, but, he knew, it wasn't a good idea. Could it be one of Neville's friends? It must have taken something serious to do to make Malfoy react like this, even if he was quite short-tempered, touchy and somehow easy to upset, at least, as far as Neville knew him.

"Goodness... Why don't you just leave me alone? My head hurts."

"Let's go for a walk. You'll feel better."

"No. Get out," Draco frowned, starting to think what kind of spell he could use to hex the annoying Gryffindor to discourage him from intruding his rooms again. Meanwhile, Neville was examining the plant in the pot near the window. It had dark-red thin stems and long leaves with red veins. As his eyes had got accustomed to the semidarkness, he could see that the plant looked dry.

"This plant looks bad. It only grows well and blooms if you pour blood to its roots, not only water," he said.

"I'm sure your blood will do just fine," the voice silky and dangerous answered, however, Neville ignored the threat.

"Maybe you should stop being so... dramatic."

"Dramatic? ! You know nothing!" Draco growled furiously.

"I thought you cared about your son. Don't you think he's not taking your... melancholy well?" Neville touched the sore spot and he knew it.

"Shut up! He's fine. He doesn't care about my mood." _'I hope he doesn't...'_

"If you say so... But you're not eating well and you can fall ill. This won't do him any good."

"How did you know that I'm... Of course. Florie. Little treacherous creature tells everything to strangers! Great."

"Malfoy, get out of this bed and let's go outside. You need it. And your son needs it, too. Do it for him. Your depression goes a little too far."

"I hate you," the blond grumbled again, but, unfortunately, the infuriating Gryffindor was right.

"Tell me something I don't know," Neville sighed.

"I need a bath... I'll go outside if you leave my room right now."

"Deal," Neville nodded, a little surprised that everything had gone easier than he'd expected; he still wasn't hexed and the Slytherin had given up that fast. "Do you need some help?" he asked, seeing how weak Draco was, when he was getting up.

"Fuck, no! Don't even come closer. Get out of here."

Neville shrugged and left, hearing the irritated grumbling behind his back.

Warm bath was soothing and relaxing. Draco sighed and embraced himself. His son was calm, sleeping, most definitely, after kicking his ribs slightly during the entire morning.

"I'm sorry. I'm a terrible father. You must be very disappointed..." _'Harry, I need you so much, but I can't... Can't what? Forgive you?'_ He still wasn't ready to think about it.

When he got dressed and went outside, Longbottom followed him to his irritation. _'Wonderful. Baby-sitter is exactly what I need.'_ But then he decided that he didn't care. They went to the forest, but weren't entering the forest itself, walking close to it along the bank of the river, which was some kind of the border of the forest with the sparse trees on its both sides.

"Is it true what people say about this forest?" Neville finally asked.

"Perhaps," Draco sighed. He wasn't quite in the mood for a talk, but replied: "Many people got lost there. Some were never found."

"They say when people try to get out and find the right way, they start to walk in circles or drive themselves even further into the wild wood. And not many magical creatures live here," Neville said.

"Such places are far away from here anyway. It's safe here and there _**are**_ animals. Just some part of the forest is cursed. Some outlaws practised something very dark in that part several centuries ago. That created the abnormality. But people still don't know how to fix it, so no one goes there on purpose," Draco explained, though Neville saw that the blonde's thoughts were somewhere far away. He also noticed that the blonde's eyelids were a little swollen and red. Someone had hurt him really bad.

"Could it be the reason of all the strange things in the forest?" Neville asked, nevertheless.

"It might be so. Or those outlaws chose that place, because the forest had the dark potential from the start. No one knows now."

"I don't know; I like it here. The air is so fresh and the place is calm. I wouldn't mind to find a place like this for myself."

"Only if you want to separate yourself from the world."

"Sounds like a good thing sometimes. But you'll have to keep an eye on your kid, not to let him wander deep into the forest."

"I'm sure my son is going to be a sensible person. More sensible than me, hopefully..." Draco stopped and sat down on a big stone, inhaling deeply.

"Are you tired?"

"Just give me a few minutes," Draco replied. Neville nodded, sitting down on the ground. The singing of birds, the sound of the river, the rustle of the leaves and the smell of the fresh grass were very helpful in clearing Draco's mind. Going for a walk hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

Then they walked some more, each with his own thoughts, and decided to return to the house when Draco's back began to ache a little. At any rate, he brought himself into a better shape through walking and even worked up an appetite to Florie's joy. She served dinner immediately, avoiding Draco's disapproving glances, because he was still angry about her talkativeness.

However, he got another reason to become nervous when the owl brought a newspaper. Neville took it and gasped, reading the front page. His eyes were wide and Draco felt uneasy.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"It's about Harry... My goodness... The trial... Ginny's arrested for..." the Gryffindor gasped again. Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"No! I don't want to hear anything about him and that bitch!" he exclaimed furiously. Neville looked at him suspiciously. Angry and upset, the blond dropped a teaspoon on the table and lowered his face, standing up. He went back to his room. His eye was twitching nervously and he was high-strung again.

* * *

><p>In the evening, when Longbottom had left without bothering him again, Draco went downstairs and found the newspaper. At first he was afraid to read. He saw Harry's indifferent face with empty eyes was on the photograph. And still, he ventured to read the article. There had been a trial. Harry had testified against Ginny Weasley, who had used the services of the dark witch to make him hers, nearly driving him insane. Draco automatically approved the fact that Harry had pressed charges against her. With disgust he'd half-expected that Harry would just forgive her, just because she was a member of the family he respected the most. Fortunately, he'd appeared to be better than that. She had been sentenced to a year and a half in Azkaban, and the term wasn't too short, considering the conditions of life in that prison. The one, who had performed the dark ritual, Medea Levington, still wasn't found. Harry had disappeared right after the trial, refusing to talk to the reporters or anyone else at all. Draco sighed and sat down tiredly. When the old fool, Slughorn, who, apparently, had suffered from the senile dementia, had taught the students how to brew the Love Potion, some fucking idiots, of course, had tried to brew and try it on someone, like Pansy had, for example. Well, if such things were allowed at school... But it seemed that Weasley bitch had decided to go even further. Now Draco felt like he'd been robbed. Silently he retreated to his study, followed by Severus' eyes, who decided not to interfere in the boy's deep thoughtfulness.<p>

Draco was looking at the blank piece of parchment on the desk for some time.

_'I really don't know what to write, but,' _he wrote, but crumpled the parchment angrily and threw it away.

_'Harry, there are a lot of things I couldn't tell you in person; I still don't think I can. I don't know if writing a letter is a better way.' _Another piece of parchment was thrown away. And the next one followed. _'Pathetic...'_ he thought.

_'Harry,_

_Although, I really doubt that that was exactly the reason of my breakdown, I have mood swings that make me too edgy sometimes. I overreacted. I'm not asking your forgiveness; don't expect that from me. But I must apologise for embarrassing myself like that. I saw you and it confused me. No, confusion is an underestimation. You were the most unexpected visitor. Memories rushed into my mind. Many things happened since our break up. I hoped I could bury the past, including you, so now I don't really know what to do. I haven't succeeded in leaving the past behind, so far, and it hurts me a lot to look back. _

_We can try to talk again sometime; if you're still interested, of course. I hope this time I'll be able to control myself enough for a civil talk. I can't promise anything else, though._

_Please, let me know beforehand if you intend to visit. I have to be morally prepared. But I'm not waiting for you. _

_Draco.'_

He decided that it was much better (the best he could offer in his current emotional state), even if the message was short. But he didn't like his handwriting, which was betraying his nervousness. _'I'm not waiting for you,'_ was a lie, of course, and he hated himself that it was. Writing it was just making him feel less vulnerable. He rewrote the letter, forcing his hand to be steadier this time. He left it on his desk and went to bed. It was better to leave it until the morning, so he could read it once again and weigh it more carefully.


	19. 18 Stepping carefully

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

WriteAtNight (Thanks so much! :) ), HowDracoGotHisGrooveBack (Thank you! Nice pen name ;) ), Melanie4 (Good to know! Thanks :)), Sun (Thanks again for reviewing! Enjoy!), kitty tokyo uzumaki (She's in Azkaban now where she belongs :). Thanks for your review!), buttercup123 (They just weren't really ready. Harry wasn't ready to find out about his fatherhood, and Draco was worked up from the start. Please, enjoy and thank you :) ), Lilyth (I'm so glad it took your attention! I think Severus is too practical for any empty advices. Thanks!), lostsouloftheunderworld (*gasps* we can't let it happen! Here it is. Thanks a lot! :) ), Arcania (I'm glad you're not angry at him anymore. Thank you!), Aquarinus (Thank you! Indeed. I wouldn't be brave enough to make Draco happy about Harry's visit after all he's been through. It would seem unbelievable. And yes, I thought so, too, about Ginny's trial!), sara (Thank you very much! ;) ), Sunshine (Thanks a lot! I'd have told you the exact time of uploads, but you're right it's hard to do because of the time differences. If it helps, I'm uploading this one in about three hours after you reviewed, if my e-mail notified me correctly. I usually upload each day almost at the same time :) ), fancine (Thank you and here it is!). **Thanks all of you for your kind words!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>18. Stepping carefully<strong>_

Goyle visited sooner than expected, but Draco didn't mind. They were in his sitting room. He was hiding under the blanket again, so Goyle decided that he was ill, like Harry had decided when he'd visited, before finding out the truth. Gregory's appearance hadn't changed a lot, but he'd matured noticeably, though, it wasn't something new for Draco, because he'd seen him on the pictures that his friend had been sending with his letters. It seemed quite odd for them both to speak in person again after not seeing each other for a long time and after some time of communicating only by sending letters. So, at first, they both felt awkward. Gregory had always been a person, who needed some time to accommodate to his interlocutor, and even if it had changed in some way and even if he'd known Draco for a long time, he still needed time to get into an easy conversation. The blond felt no better. Sad, but true, - they reminded each other of the things they would both have preferred to forget. But soon the barriers started to melt and they found a lot of topics to discuss.

"You wrote you had some news. I'm intrigued," Draco smiled a little.

"Ah... The news. Yes. Remember I mentioned a young woman from Slovakia in my letters?"

"I remember."

"I'm getting married," Gregory said with a sigh.

"Congratulations. Though... You don't look quite happy about it. What's wrong?"

"She's pregnant. _**Twins**_. She's a good young woman and I like her a lot. I even thought about marrying her before, but I'm still confused that it all has happened so soon," Gregory explained.

"I don't know what to say. Do you think you'll be all right with that?" the blond asked.

"Yes, I hope so. She wasn't ready for it too. We wanted to wait with the marriage, but she's from a pureblood family, too, and they don't want to lose their face, of course. So, it's decided," his friend said with a small smile. He showed the picture of his wife to be and told some things about her. She was two years older than Goyle. A little plump, but very good-looking witch with the dark-red hair and with the good taste in clothes.

"Do you get along with her family?" The blond asked.

"Yes. Mostly. But their family councils..." Gregory made an expression of annoyance on his face.

"Is it their usual kind of routine?"

"It's a tradition. They gather every last Saturday of the month. They have quite a big family. All their children, some with their wives or husbands... You have to have a very good excuse not to be there. Gods. Imagine something twice as boring and unbearable as Binns' lessons."

"How entertaining. What a nice way to spend your Saturday," Draco chuckled. "Was that the way they engaged you into this marriage business - invited you to the one of their... umm... parties and issued an ultimatum: 'marry or we'll bore you to death'?"

"Very funny," Gregory smirked.

"So, when?"

"Next month."

"Quite soon."

"Yes. Someone's afraid not to look good enough in her wedding dress if we wait any longer."

"I'm glad you've found time to visit me."

"Actually, I wanted to invite you. I'd like you to be my best man," Gregory said. Draco's face became sad.

"Believe me, I'd gladly accept the honour, but I can't. And I'm sorry."

"I see. That's all right, you don't have to explain yourself. You wouldn't have met me like this... I mean, lying under the blanket, if you were all right. So, you're ill, aren't you?" Gregory asked carefully.

"Not quite. I have some things to tell you, too. I couldn't write about it without seeing your reaction," the blond sighed.

"What's wrong?" Goyle asked, looking concerned and preparing himself to hear something terrible as his friend's face paled a little and there was some tension in his features. Draco took some time to collect himself and told him everything. He told him what Lucius had done to him and what he'd intended to do, giving him to the Dark Lord, so Draco could have given birth to his new body. Gregory buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. Draco actually expected him to run away, screaming, any moment. He also told him about who'd made him pregnant and Goyle's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He interrupted Draco twice to go out on the balcony, to have a cigarette from his silver cigarette case, just to calm down. Draco was even a little amused by his reaction. Just in case, his wand was under the pillow, but he saw nothing threatening to use it to erase Gregory's memory about this confession.

"Are you still my friend?" he asked bluntly when he'd finished his story. Goyle inhaled deeply. He was silent for a few seconds.

"I am. Well... Of course, I am, but," he then said, but frowned a little: "Merlin, you could have warned me somehow; you could have given me a hint in your letters, for example. You can't do such things to people all of a sudden! For gods' sake, Draco..." He moaned and pressed a hand to his face again.

"I know, I know. Sorry," the blond chuckled. "How many sweets exactly do you need to recover? Or you only prefer cigarettes now?"

"I smoke when I'm nervous and there was no way to listen to you without it. But I still like sweets. And you'll need a damn lot of it to make me recover."

* * *

><p>"So... What do you want to name... your son?" Goyle asked when Florie had served them tea with sweets.<p>

"It's not a final decision, but for now I call him Narcissus," Draco replied.

"I see..." Gregory nodded, understanding his choice of name.

"And what about you? What do you want to name your twins?"

"We haven't decided yet. She's only been pregnant for three months or so. We don't even know yet if they are girls or boys. Gods, I still can't believe it. You're pregnant. _**You**_! I escaped my pregnant fiancée, just to find my friend in the same condition. Guess I'm cursed."

"I just have to ask you to be quiet about it."

"Of course. I'll be silent as the grave, I swear," Goyle nodded and cast a glance at Draco's belly. He could see it now as the blond had gotten rid of the blanket, because there was no point in hiding after his story. Draco saw that glance.

"Does it look disturbing?" he asked, realising that not everyone would find it attractive.

"No. It's not about that... I just... I just worry about you."

"Why?"

"Never mind," Goyle waved off. Saying that he was worried about Draco's health and that his condition could even put his life in danger, weren't good things to voice. But the blond understood him without words, though he remained quiet too.

Later Draco offered his friend some whisky, but, certainly, wasn't drinking it with him. They were talking about the past: something to laugh about and something to be sad. And then Goyle was thinking about Draco's story again. He'd already decided for himself that, without any doubts, everything was Potter's fault. He thought that the presumptuous Gryffindor had used the opportunity when Draco had needed protection and help, so he'd drawn the blond into the certain kind of a relationship. Any arguments, that Draco had a mind of his own and had been more than willing to start that relationship, would be invalid. No one could break his own logical chain in his head; Potter had used his friend and had obviously caused a lot of suffering. Potter had made him pregnant. And then he'd just dumped him with a good help of _**Weasleys**_! Two deep wrinkles appeared between Gregory's eyebrows.

"I'll kill him," he said suddenly.

"Who?" Draco blinked at him.

"Potter, who else? I don't care if he was cursed or not. Who does he think he is? Just say a word and I'll break his spine."

"I'll think about it," Draco shrugged. He wasn't serious, of course; just wanted to cease Goyle's fit of the righteous anger, warmed up with a couple of glasses of the strong drink. "But... Let's talk about something else, all right? I don't want to think about him now."

"Right. He doesn't deserve it."

They were talking till the morning. The conversation was sincere and they felt like they could tell a lot of things to each other without feeling uncomfortable about it. Both of them wordlessly admitted that now they were closer than they'd ever been. But at the first light of day Draco became drowsy, and finally he gave in and fell asleep on the canapé. Goyle decided to follow his example and fell asleep in the armchair. After a couple of hours of sleep they had their breakfast and then it was time for Goyle to leave.

"Too bad you can't stay any longer," Draco sighed.

"I'm leaving in the evening, but I have some things to do before that," Gregory replied, pulling a face. Obviously, he wasn't looking forward to it, whatever it was.

"Family matters? Things to settle before the wedding?" Draco guessed.

"Uh-huh. A lot of little things to take care of always create a big problem, you know."

"You don't say."

Accompanying him to the outer door, Draco noticed that Goyle was towering almost two heads above him now; and the blond felt diminutive even if he'd always been smaller and twice as thin.

"Gods, when are you going to stop growing?" Draco raised his eyebrow, looking up at him.

"I think I've reached my limit already," Goyle grinned.

The words of good-bye were hard to say when they got to the door. Surprising them both, Draco wrapped his lean arms around his friend's mighty shoulders and sighed.

"See you..." he said.

"What is it? My prince has gone soft, eh?" Goyle smirked, returning the friendly hug. Draco let him go, sneered and dealt him a good slap on the back of the head.

"Better now?" he asked, smirking. Gregory chuckled.

"You better be okay, Draco," he said seriously. "If you'll need any help, just owl me and I'll do whatever I can. Owl me anyway."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me. I hope you'll send me some pictures after your wedding."

"You'll have all of them," Goyle promised cheerfully. "Bye."

Draco watched his friend coming out and disapparating, and then he returned to his rooms, feeling sad and asking himself where his early, carefree school years had gone. He entered his study and looked at the letter on the table, still unsent to the one it meant to be sent to. He still couldn't bring himself to do it. Why was it _**that**_ hard just to send a letter? This time he promised himself to do it... after a good nap, because he was still sleepy after only a few hours of sleep this morning.

* * *

><p>Harry was destroyed. He blocked everyone from flooing in, from firecalling him, from apparating to his house; ignored the mail. He knew it was unfair, because his friends, surely, tried to contact him, but he couldn't talk to anyone. Draco's words were still ringing in his head, hurting him over and over again: <em>'...How could you do this to us? ! I tried to convince myself that you were dead! And I wish you were! Stay away from us!..' <em>And those that had followed him on the way to the stairs when he'd been _**running away**_: '_...You ruin everything! Now I see why people die around you! You're not a hero, you're just a bastard! Get out!..' _He hadn't meant those shocking and cruel words, Harry knew it, he knew Draco; the blond had given way to his pain, wanted to hurt back, and he'd succeeded, anyway. Those words had been cried out of pain, not out of hatred; but it didn't matter, because Harry had failed to set things right, and he'd even made them worse - Draco had had a breakdown... in his condition. Was he all right now, after that? Harry knew Draco wasn't, and he was worried sick because of it. Draco was with child... He'd had them both in his arms before, when the blond had fainted in the Great Hall and Harry had carried _**them**_ to the infirmary, though he had had no idea about it, of course. _'If I only knew...' _No, even before that. They'd been together, still happy, probably before Harry's mind had been affected, before he'd started to avoid their dates and lie, and Draco had already been pregnant. _'More than seven months ago...'_ He imagined how complete they both would have been if only the circumstances were different, if only they'd never broken up. _'...When I really needed you and your concerns, you were snogging with Weasley in front of me...' _Harry grabbed the bottle of firewhisky, but put it down - the smell of alcohol was sickening. He hadn't been there with Draco, who'd been alone in this. No, he hadn't been alone, he had Snape. Even if he and Harry disliked each other, Harry knew Snape loved his godson and he would kill for him. But it wasn't the same; Harry was the father of the child, he'd had to be there to support Draco, to take care of him, but he hadn't... So many things were lost. _**He**_ was lost. He couldn't sleep, because regrets and memories were tearing him apart, he couldn't talk to anyone, because he wouldn't be able to explain what he'd felt when he'd seen Draco's face again, how much he'd wanted to touch him, to hold him. He wouldn't be able to explain what he'd felt when Draco had pressed his hand to his round belly and Harry had felt the movements against his palm; the feeling had been wonderful, surprising, heartbreaking, startling and a little scary, at the same time, because he worried about Draco. _'I'm going to be a father. It's my baby...'_ He repeated it ten times or even more, but it was still too much to take in.

He only left his house in the day of Ginny's trial. Testifying against her, he remained cold and calm, and left even before the verdict was announced. Hermione and Ron tried to follow him, tried to talk to him, but he left them behind. Later Ron convinced his father to interfere. It was Hermione's idea. He got an Auror at his disposal and a permission to break Harry's wards, as Ron insisted that Harry's life was probably in danger (even if he doubted that it was _**that**_ bad, he knew Harry wasn't okay).

Harry wasn't startled, feeling someone ruining his wards. When Ron and some stranger entered the room, he just looked at them impassively, sitting on the window sill. The redhead let the Auror go, thanking him for his help, and the man left. Ron was relieved to see Harry sober, because he'd thought that his friend had been drinking for days.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing?" he frowned. Harry just sighed. Ron sat down. "What happened to you?"

"A lot of things," the brunet replied quietly.

"Why are you ignoring us? We didn't know what to think."

"Just wanted some time alone."

"It's... about Malfoy, isn't it?" the redhead said. Harry closed his eyes and lowered his face and Ron suspected that the worst thing had happened. "Oh... I'm so sorry, Harry. So, he..."

"No," Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "Thank goodness, he's alive."

"Then what happened? He refused to talk to you then?" Ron asked. Harry was silent for more than a minute, staring out the window that hadn't been cleaned for many years.

"Ron... What does it take for a man to get pregnant?" he asked suddenly. The question confused the redhead.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just tell me."

"I... don't really know. It's possible. As far as I know, there are potions. Very expensive and very hard to brew."

"What else do you know?"

"Nothing special. It's rather uncommon thing. I don't understand why anyone would do something like that. It's dangerous. Anything can go wrong and... Harry..." Ron's eyes widened. "What's on your mind?" he asked even more confused. "Oh, no... Don't tell me. No." He closed his ears with his hands, shaking his head, as the frightening suspicions hit him. But then he forced himself to listen, hoping that Harry would dispel those suspicions.

"I found him, Ron. He's pregnant with my baby." Harry didn't look back when he heard Ron's gasp. He kept talking against the dirty glass of the window, leaving the misted spot with his breath. "He was pretty upset when he saw me; to say the least of it. Of course, he's angry with me, because of what happened between us. He can't forgive me. And I wasn't there with him when he needed my support. He needed it... I can only imagine how hard it was for him. I wasn't ready for that talk, too, so it was... I only made him cry. Ron, you have no idea..." Harry stopped talking as he'd started to stutter.

"Merlin... Why would he do that to himself?" the redhead frowned a little.

"It wasn't him. He didn't explain; like I said, our talk was a disaster... Lucius did something to him to make it possible. That's all he said. Maybe Lucius added those potions to Draco's meal or something... I'm not sure I want to know why he did it to his son. No, I don't want to know," Harry shook his head.

"But... that's terrible!" Ron exclaimed, filled with indignation. "If anyone did anything like that to me, I think I'd just..." he became silent and just exhaled noisily.

"I just know that he wants this baby. He was very protective. And he doesn't want me anywhere near them," Harry sighed. _'Even if he wants, he's too hurt to forgive me.'_

"But are you sure the baby's yours?" the redhead asked. Harry nodded.

"You must not tell anyone about it. Not yet. Promise me."

"Okay," Ron said. Harry became anxious again:

"Ron, I'm scared for Draco, I'm really scared," he confessed with the hurt in his voice. "There's nothing I want more than to be with him. I should be there with him, but everything's ruined and I..." He was harshly interrupted by something very startling and unexpected, and that 'something' hit the window from the outside. Harry jumped, expecting that it would shower his face with the shards of the broken glass, and quickly slid down from the window sill, grabbing his wand from the small table next to it. But, surprisingly, the window withstood the attack. Ron flinched, too, and stood up quickly.

"What the hell was that? !" he exclaimed. Both flinched again, when what had hit the window, appeared in front of it again. It was an owl and it wanted to get in.

"Fucking bird!" Ron growled.

"I wonder whose..." Harry frowned, but all his indignation died, once he noticed the painfully familiar handwriting on the envelope that was tied to the owl's leg. _'To Harry Potter.'_ He felt dizzy. He opened the window with some effort as quickly as he could, as it resisted at first.

"What are you doing? This bird is mad," Ron said, moving back, just in case, when the owl alighted on the windowsill. It allowed Harry to untie the letter, but it looked like it was about to peck him to death or bite off his fingers.

_'Harry,_

_Although, I really doubt that that was exactly the reason of my breakdown, I have mood swings that make me too edgy sometimes. I overreacted. I'm not asking your forgiveness; don't expect that from me. But I must apologise for embarrassing myself like that. I saw you and it confused me. No, confusion is an underestimation. You were the most unexpected visitor. Memories rushed into my mind. Many things happened since our break up. I hoped I could bury the past, including you, so now I don't really know what to do. I haven't succeeded in leaving the past behind, so far, and it hurts me a lot to look back. _

_We can try to talk again sometime; if you're still interested, of course. I hope this time I'll be able to control myself enough for a civil talk. I can't promise anything else, though._

_Please, let me know beforehand if you intend to visit. I have to be morally prepared. But I'm not waiting for you. _

_Draco.'_

Harry inhaled deeply, feeling weak in the knees. _'You were asking for a chance, and here it is, it seems,'_ he told himself. Standing next to him, Ron tried to repress his curiosity. He saw that his friend's face looked pale, thoughtful and a little worried. The annoyed bird fluffed out its feathers and was pacing the windowsill, making the clicking sounds with its sharp claws. Harry shooed the owl away and closed the window.

"What is it?" the redhead asked.

"Ron..." Harry almost whispered.

"Yes?"

"If screw up, kill me."

* * *

><p>Draco was restless after sending a letter. He wasn't expecting the immediate answer, deciding that Harry needed time to think, but... he was restless.<p>

At sunset the white owl flew in with the message in her beak. It was Snowflake. She literally put the message in his hands herself and flew away. Draco unfolded it uncertainly, feeling tense.

_'Dear Draco,_

_I'm already here. Sorry if this message isn't 'beforehand' enough. Couldn't wait any longer. But I'll wait here if you need time. It's okay if you're not ready to see me right now, don't worry, please._

_Harry.' _

Draco couldn't believe it. He went out on the balcony and looked out. His heart sank. Harry was there, in front of the wards and he was looking back softly. The blond forced himself to keep his growing panic under control. It seemed Harry had set out to him, once he'd received the letter, without waiting, without thinking. That was frustrating, because he'd ignored Draco's request. But the blond decided to suppress all his bitter resentments, he didn't want to end up with another breakdown and he'd promised a civil talk. He took several deep breaths and let Harry in through the wards. He was waiting for him in his sitting room.

Harry entered the house. On his way to the stairs he saw an elf.

"Hello," he said. She didn't reply, looking at him with anger and pout on her face. He remembered that Snape had promised to bury him alive in the garden and Harry was sure that the little creature would gladly help her master with that. Speaking of Snape: the man was sitting in the living room and writing something, completely ignoring the visitor and his very quiet greeting, which he'd doubtlessly heard. _'Great,'_ Harry thought. First, the furious bird that had delivered Draco's letter, then this angry elf, who was still trying to incinerate him with her eyes, and, finally, Snape, who found Harry so unworthy of his attention, that he did not once look at him and kept writing. _'You're my last hope, Draco,'_ Harry thought sarcastically, though, he didn't know if he should smile or cry at this. In fact, he wasn't insulted by a cold welcome, especially after what had happened the last time he'd been in this house; Draco had had a breakdown and everyone, apparently, blamed Harry, however, he shared their feelings completely. But now he was concerned about the forthcoming talk and he had to be calm and reasonable. He knocked at Draco's sitting room.

"Come in," the blond said. Harry entered and sat down. Draco was sitting on his favourite canapé, his back was propped up with the pillow again, but this time there was no blanket to hide under.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked.

"Fine," Draco replied. They were silent for some time, looking at each other covertly. Neither of them knew how to start the conversation.

"Thank you for writing me a letter." It was Harry who broke the silence. "I was thinking about writing you, but you forestalled me. I just wanted to wait a little."

"So, you still refuse to give up?"

"How can I give up?.. I just didn't want to upset you any further. I care for you, Draco," Harry said quietly. He noticed that Draco frowned a little for a second and then he changed the subject:

"I saw an article about you on the day of the trial."

"I'm sure it was full of lies," the brunet smiled a little.

"I don't know, I didn't pay much attention to it," Draco lied. _'I read it, at least, twice...'_ "And I wasn't there to judge. Do you regret testifying against her?"

"Yes and no. I don't feel well about making her family suffer, but she deserved it. I did what I had to."

"Very sensible of you."

"What she's done... What she's done to us couldn't go unpunished."

"Indeed, it couldn't..." Draco sighed. Harry was pensive for a few moments, and Draco didn't interrupt his thoughts. He noticed that the brunet was looking at his belly.

"I want you back, Draco," Harry said quietly, looking in Draco's eyes this time. At first, the blonde's features sharpened a little, but then his face was hard to read, and Harry continued: "I don't want anyone else. I just can't see myself with anyone else at all. It's just you. I want to have a family with you. I want to make up for the lost time." These were brave and straightforward things to say, Draco could give him that. "I understand; you must be very disappointed in me."

"It's not just that," Draco said after a few seconds of silence. "People will talk a lot about it. I'm not concerned about myself, because they won't hate me more than they already do. I don't have any good reputation to ruin."

"I don't give a damn about them!" Harry frowned a little, but not at Draco. "I owe them nothing. I've done enough already."

"You don't see my point at all..." Draco shook his head and averted his eyes. "It's not just about you and me now. When those idiots at school were attacking me, it was such an indication... When they were out of their insults and jokes about me being a Death Eater, Voldemort's lackey, murderer and other things, including my mother's death by Lucius' hands... Well... Eventually, they started to repeat themselves or say the other things, and, believe me, they weren't smart and original. Harry, no matter what I do or say, no matter what you do or say, people will always remember me as a threat, as a younger copy of Lucius, even if I'm not like him. Save your breath and face it. I'm not going to try to change their opinion. I don't care what they think of me, but, unfortunately, we all live in the society and depend on it one way or another. Can you see it now? For some time I've been avoiding it successfully, but _**you**_ can't avoid it, Harry, so you'll draw their attention to me and, even worse, to a child. I... I'd probably give a lot just to be with you..." He fell silent for a moment as he started to feel that he was losing his voice. _'I'd risk my sanity again...'_ he thought miserably. "But I can't sacrifice my... our child. I would have rather got rid of him when I had a chance than let him suffer all the hatred I suffered, and let him be a scapegoat and a pariah like myself. Consider me a coward, if you must, but I'm scared for him and for myself. You'll draw the attention to him, it's inevitable. If anyone hurts him, I... I don't know what I'll do," he whispered and closed his eyes, laying his hands on his belly protectively, without thinking. Harry felt heartbroken at this and there was nothing he wanted more than to comfort Draco, to soothe his anxiety with a delicate touch. He wasn't sure if he would be welcome to do it, though.

"You're not a coward. You've been through a lot and... But you can't hide him forever," he said gently.

"I'm not going to lock him up. But, without you around, no one will know that he's yours. No one will find out somehow that _**I**_ was pregnant with him and gave him birth. No one will think that I've set this up just to have you with me. If they'll blame me, they'll blame him, too."

"Let me take care of it. I won't let anyone hurt you or baby. Please, trust me, you can leave it to me," Harry promised. Draco noticed that the brunet was approaching slowly.

"You sound so confident. I'm confused..." he said, still uncertain.

"I understand," Harry said. He was on his knees now, in front of Draco, and took his hand in his, half-expecting that the blond would pull his hand out, but he didn't. The touch was reassuring. They were silent. Harry was caressing Draco's palm with his fingertips. The sincere green eyes were looking in his, and Draco was captivated, failing to avert his own eyes this time. He only closed them when he started to feel that he was drowning.

"And you also shouldn't expect me to be in good terms with your friends," he said suddenly, though he didn't really know why he was saying it. "I dislike some of them and I don't care about the others. I'm saying it in case you'll change your mind later, just because I won't be very friendly with them. I won't start any feud if they won't, of course, and I'm not going to stand in the way of your friendship, but expect nothing more than that."

"Draco, if you're trying to dissuade me or scare me away, you don't sound convincing at all," Harry smiled.

"I just want you to be aware of..."

"I'm aware," the brunet nodded, interrupting him. "I'm aware..." he repeated. He was looking at Draco's belly for some time, and he could swear, he saw it moving (or it was just Draco's breathing). He was itching to touch it. "May I..?" he whispered. Draco nodded. Harry's tentative and slightly trembling hand touched his belly carefully as if the touch could hurt someone. The blond rolled his eyes at this. He sighed and moved Harry's hand a little higher, where he could feel the movements better, and pressed it a little harder. Harry held his breath.

"Amazing..." he said quietly. "So... A boy then." he nodded.

"Yes," Draco replied.

"What is it like? I want to know everything."

"It was scary at first. I was shocked and terrified when I found out. The sickness was terrible: I felt dizzy, I fainted several times, could hardly keep any meal down. I... tried to terminate the pregnancy. No, I didn't really try, but I wanted to. It got better in the end of the school year. I was already showing, but I was hiding... And I already wanted this child. He's a part of me... I started to feel him moving. Everything was quite fine from the fourth to the seventh month. Now I feel tired most days, my back hurts and for three days already I've been trying to move his leg away from my ribs somehow, but, it seems, he feels comfortable to stick his foot or both feet under them," Draco said and sighed. Harry was devouring his every word and was speechless for a minute.

"Does it hurt?" he asked sympathetically.

"It's uncomfortable and sometimes it's hard to inhale. It hurts only when he kicks me hard."

"What else does he do in there?" Harry asked. Draco could see that the brunet was tormented by curiosity and worry.

"A great many things, especially when I'm trying to sleep. Sometimes it seems he's a night owl, and sometimes he wakes me up early in the morning. Perhaps, when I'm walking or just moving, it rocks him to sleep; I don't know. He sucks his fingers sometimes. Once, when Pomfrey examined me, she saw him holding a navel cord in his hand. I feel the way he's turning, kicking, trying to straighten himself. He can even hiccup; it only happened once and it scared me a bit," Draco said. Harry was still touching his belly, but the baby was already calm.

"Goodness..." he sighed at Draco's words.

"That's all right, many children do things like that."

"When did you find out?"

"Hmm... It was almost in the middle of March, I believe."

"So when you fainted in the Great Hall and I brought you to the infirmary, you already knew?"

"Yes."

"I see. And the Ministry? Your interrogators?"

"Severus has taken care of it. It's a long story. He helped me to hide my condition from them and then they just left me alone. I don't really know what he did, but they don't bother me anymore. No more tracking, no more interrogations. Somehow Severus convinced them to allow him to take the responsibility for me. It means that if I break the law, both of us will answer for it. But they know nothing."

"Thank God..."

"I'm convinced, the smaller number of people knows about it, the better."

"Who else knows?"

"Well... I told Pomfrey when you brought me to her. I took her oath, so she won't tell anyone. Longbottom gave an oath, too. Goyle..."

"Wait a minute, Neville knows?" Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How?"

And Draco told him. They discussed a lot of things, already feeling less awkward with each other. Harry had plenty of questions, Draco answered all of them and asked his own (about the curse mostly, and Harry's answers were careful, because he didn't want to upset him). Only in the dead of the night Draco decided to end the talk. He got up with an effort, as his back was tired of the sitting position. He arched back with the painful expression on his face.

"Well, I think..." he started, but became silent when Harry wrapped his arms around his hips, still standing on his knees. He pressed his cheek to Draco's belly. "Wait..." the blond wanted to protest. He still hadn't made his decision about _**them**_, no matter how much he wanted them to be together again. He longed for it. Harry didn't let him protest anyway.

"No... You're mine, Draco. Mine... Both. Love you..." he whispered fervently, kissing the blonde's hip and his belly several times through the clothes, rubbing his cheek against it and refusing to let go. Draco's little gasp and the tension of his body made Harry aware that he was probably pressing himself against him too hard and holding too tight. He loosened his grip a little and looked up at the blonde's face apologetically, but found no anger in the grey eyes. Draco put his hands on his shoulders, but wasn't trying to wriggle out of the embrace, even if he would have preferred to lie down into bed right now. Harry's nearness felt desired, necessary, and Draco closed his eyes, surrendering to it.

"I'm so sorry..." Harry said quietly and lowered his eyes. "I wasn't there with you when you found out about pregnancy. I wasn't there when you were sick and needed help and support, wasn't there when your tummy started to grow. Feels like all of it was stolen from me."

"I feel the same..."

"Can you forgive me?" Harry asked, looking up at the blonde's face again and pressing his chin against the round belly. His hands were stroking the blonde's hips and the small of his back gently. Draco closed his eyes again. He'd missed these hands so much.

"It wasn't your fault," he finally admitted, even if it wasn't easy.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was, - you still don't trust me."

"Harry, I'm not ready to talk about it right now. It's late. I need some sleep."

"Okay. May I come back tomorrow? Or it's today already..."

"Yes, you may," Draco agreed. _'Merlin, save you, if you won't.'_

"Go to bed." Harry kissed his tummy again and let him go reluctantly. "See you tomorrow."

"Today," the blond corrected.

"Today," Harry nodded. "Good night, Draco."

When he left, Florie peeped into Draco's room to ascertain that he was fine after the visit. She found him looking lost in his thoughts.

"Does young sir need anything?" she asked.

"No, Florie. I'm going to sleep," he answered, returning to the reality.

"Sweet dreams, sir."

"Good night."

Harry left the house, imbued with hope. Everything he'd heard from Draco occupied his thoughts and he was full of emotions. He knew there was too much information in his head that wouldn't let him sleep this night (or morning, more exactly), but he apparated home, nevertheless. _'I already miss you...'_


	20. 19 Time is precious

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Lilyth (Yes, they can ;)! Thanks!), lostsouloftheunderworld (No mockery :P. Thank you! Really :) ), Arcania (Thanks!), buttercup123 (Thank you! They just need time. They say: "Once bitten, twice shy."), Sunshine (Thanks a lot for reviewing!), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Please enjoy, and thanks :) !), fancine (I just wanted them to move slowly. Thank you!), Aquarinus (Indeed, almost ;). Thanks!), ugly charisma (Hehe! Now I feel like a drug dealer of some kind! Well, here it is! Thank you :) ).

* * *

><p><em><strong>19. Time is precious<strong>_

In the afternoon Harry returned. He hadn't slept more than three hours last night, but he was so eager to see Draco as soon as possible that any lack of sleep paled before it. He'd only waited, because he wanted Draco to have enough time to rest. Florie let him in. She wasn't looking angry anymore, but still refused to speak to him. Draco was drinking tea when the brunet entered his room.

"Good afternoon, Harry," the blond said, feeling pleased that Harry had come back so soon. At heart he'd been a little afraid that Harry would change his mind for some reason, even if he'd felt that this fear was completely groundless.

"Hi, Draco," Harry smiled.

"How do you feel about going for a walk?"

"Only you could choose such a gloomy and cloudy day for it," Harry smiled again.

"The sun is not good for my skin, and besides, it's quite warm," Draco turned up his nose. It was a gesture Harry had already started to like long ago, even if it had irritated him in the past; or had not quite irritated, he couldn't decide. Anyway, it suited him, it was very typical of him, it was very Draco, and thus Harry liked everything about this fact. He felt warmth in his chest.

"Let's go then."

They went to Draco's favourite place near the river. The blond had taken a thin blanket with him. He spread it out on the ground and they both sat down.

"What are you planning to do in the near future?" Draco asked. He wanted to add: 'Now that you're free from the curse and free to do anything you desire,' but decided not to.

"Umm... Apart from doing _**absolutely**_ anything to get you back," Harry started, looking at Draco's face with the soft little smile, and noticing that the blond nearly smiled, too. "I'm going to start the Auror training with Ron."

"So, you're going to become an Auror?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I think it's going to be useful anyway. It's about the knowledge. They study the law, the fundamentals of healing, the battle magic, the defence. Many things."

"You have everything to succeed in these subjects," Draco admitted.

"Compliments, Draco? You're spoiling me," Harry smiled again.

"It wasn't a compliment, it was the fact." The blond suddenly winced and arched his back, taking a breath that wasn't as deep as he'd wanted.

"What is it?" Harry asked a little worried.

"Do you mind if I lie down for a while?"

"Of course, I don't," the brunet said understandingly. "The baby is romping about, isn't he?"

"It's not about the kicking. It's just my back..." Draco lay down on his side. It felt comfortable enough to relax a little. Harry lay down, too, so their faces were close and they were looking into each other's eyes for several minutes.

"You're beautiful," Harry whispered. Draco touched his temple with his fingertips gently, the fingers travelled down to the brunet's jaw and then to the back of his ear. Harry closed his eyes at this, enjoying the tenderness and starting to feel whole again, as if the touch could undo all the sufferings he'd endured. It was like healing. The fingers were running through his hair slowly and softly. When Harry opened his eyes, the grey ones weren't looking at him anymore: full of serenity, they were directed to the river. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the soft and relaxed features in front of him. When the hand stopped, he took it in his own and touched it with his lips. He noticed that the sun appeared on the sky as the clouds were dispersing slowly. The sun made something on Draco's neck shine a little, so Harry also noticed that he was wearing his Christmas gift - the amulet, made of white gold with the black gemstone. It was showing itself from behind Draco's shirt collar. Harry was pleased with the fact that Draco was wearing it. It was a good sign; he knew it was.

"I want to swim," Draco said suddenly, still looking at the water dreamily.

"But are you sure it's safe?" Harry asked.

"I'm sure. I'm allowed to swim if I don't overexert myself. The water is a salvation for my spine. I've already swum here once and the river wasn't very cold."

The blond got up with some Harry's help and started to undress, until only the short boxers remained on his body. He'd even taken off the wide pregnancy belt that he usually wore under his shirt and pants to support his belly and lower back. Harry couldn't help but watch him. Draco approached the river and entered it slowly. When he was almost waist-deep in the water, he dipped into it to his shoulders several times to adjust, and then went deeper until he could swim slowly and carefully. He was diving, but his head was only a few inches below the surface, never going deeper, and his movements were always smooth. Harry was looking at him almost enthralled as the blond was enjoying the water. He dived again, swimming closer to Harry until his feet could reach the bottom so he could stand. He wiped his face with palms and tucked his wet hair behind the ears. Then he looked at the brunet, who was squatting near the water, looking back at him.

"Would you care to join?" Draco asked. Harry was more than willing and soon joined him. It was a pleasant experience for both of them. Draco relaxed in the water quickly. It made him feel weightless, relieved the pain in his back and all the strain was almost gone.

"How do you feel?" the brunet asked, when he'd come to the surface in front of him.

"Much better..." Draco sighed with a small smile.

"You were right, the water's just great."

"It's such a relief. I'd gladly stay in the water till the very delivery." The blond breathed out and closed his eyes.

"What would the little one say if he knew that one of his daddies is an amphibian or even a merman?" Harry chuckled.

"Harry, that wasn't even remotely witty," Draco mumbled, but couldn't hold back a smile to Harry's delight.

"How is he, by the way?"

"I suppose he likes it, too. And why would he object? He's in the water all the time."

"Right," Harry sighed with a smile, suppressing the urge to touch Draco's belly.

They were splashing around and diving to their hearts' content, however, Draco decided not to stay in the water for too long. When he returned on the bank, Harry followed him. He cast a drying and then a warming charm on the blond, who smiled at the attention, even if he wasn't cold. They got dressed and spent some time, sitting on the blanket in silence. Both started to feel awkward again. In silence they returned to the house and into Draco's sitting room, where they were sitting and looking at each other openly. Although, it was hardly possible, it seemed, the hours had passed. Finally Harry couldn't take it anymore; he moved the armchair closer to the canapé, sat down in front of Draco and leaned forward to him, so their faces were separated only by some inches. Draco's attentive eyes were following his every move. It saddened Harry that the blond was still on the alert, still on his guard; even if slightly, even if almost unconsciously. Harry was looking at his face. Pale-pink, beautiful lips were so close now, so tempting. He desperately wanted to taste them again. But at heart he was truly afraid of being rejected. He didn't know if he was really wanted and forgiven. Well, he felt that he was, but he didn't know if it wasn't too soon to come closer. All he needed was just a tiny sign from Draco: a look in his eyes or a small move towards him, but the blond was just waiting and observing.

"I..." the brunet sighed. "I want to kiss you," he said bluntly.

"You won't take 'no' for an answer, will you?" Draco almost whispered. He was trembling inside. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but the anticipation was thrilling and sweet.

"I won't," Harry said quietly, then got up and moved his face even closer.

"Do I have any choice at all?"

"No, you don't."

"Didn't think so..." the blond whispered. His breathing was shaking and he stopped breathing at all as soon as Harry's lips finally touched his. He only exhaled with the muffled moan when the wet tongue entered his mouth gently and met his. It seemed too much and Harry broke the kiss, as he was strangely afraid to become violent in his impatience. However, he moved closer, placing his knees on the edge of the canapé, so Draco's legs were between his, and gently pressing his belly to the blonde's. Avoiding putting any uncomfortable pressure on the body beneath his own, he was barely sitting on Draco's lap. He took the pale and smooth face in his hands, and his eyes were slowly travelling all over it. It was a feast for his eyes to be able to look at this face again, being so close; he couldn't get enough. Draco was captivated, though a little nervous. It seemed only Harry's eyes were capable of doing such things. They were caressing his skin, just looking at it, making Draco feel the sweet tingling and warmth in his lower stomach. He felt giddy as the gentle and scrutinising gaze was streamlining his every curve. He was feeling it almost physically; it was like wandless magic. It had always made him feel as if he was a pure perfection, and now it felt familiar and as intimate as the physical contact. The green eyes were tracing his eyelids, eyebrows, hair, ears, lips, nose, chin, then slid down his neck to the hollow on his throat just between the collarbones, where Harry could see the pulsation. And he could tell that Draco's heart was beating fast. He touched the hollow with his lips. The Adam's apple quivered slightly under the look of his eyes as they were travelling back to the blonde's grey ones. Draco moved his face closer and they kissed again. Slowly the kiss became passionate. They only broke it when the baby kicked and Harry also felt it with his own body. He chuckled softly, looking down. Draco smiled at him, but the smile soon disappeared, giving way to the sadness.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered, stroking the blond hair gently.

"What an irony... Many times they asked me if I was going to use magic, potions or any other tricks to make you mine."

"Those fools were asking the wrong person. I'm sorry you were going through that because of me."

"It wasn't because of you. You know, the most stupid thing is that _**they**_ were the first people to know... how I feel."

"I know things have been far from being perfect for both of us, to put it lightly. But, personally, I think we deserve a chance."

"What if we fail? I don't want to go through anything like that again," Draco shook his head.

"Neither do I. I've learned the hard way how it feels to live without you. I don't want to feel like that ever again." Deep and sincere pain appeared in the green eyes for a moment.

"People say: bad beginning makes a bad ending," the blond smiled a little.

"You can't be that superstitious. And since when do you care what people say? And... The beginning wasn't bad at all, was it? Surely, you don't mean the way we started when we were eleven years old," Harry chuckled quietly. They were looking into each other's eyes again.

"I love you," Draco said suddenly and barely audible. Harry's chest filled with joy at the words. It was even more, much more, than just a joy. He was overfilled and the feeling made it hard to breathe. He thought that the blonde's eyes were looking deep into his soul; it was so intense that Harry's body nearly went limp. He put his head on Draco's shoulder, holding him with both arms.

"Love you, too..." he whispered. Draco's arms embraced him in return.

For some time they were just enjoying the closeness without saying a word. Harry became relaxed and calm, concentrated only on Draco's breathing and baby's little movements, he could feel. The familiar warmth of his beloved one felt like coming home after a hard and very long way. The calmness was lulling and soporific, and soon he felt drowsy, still trying to hold the balance, not to put the unnecessary weight on Draco.

"Love you..." he mumbled again, already unable to keep his eyes opened, and his voice was thick. "You have no idea, how much..."

"And... how much exactly?" the blond demanded with curiosity and softness in his voice.

"...Love you so much it hurts."

"Sounds good," was the quiet approval, which made Harry smile.

"Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh... Sounds like I'm not the only fool here. It's comforting..."

It didn't take long for Harry to fall into a doze, due to the fact that he'd been suffering from the sleep deprivation lately. But even through his sleep he could feel that his mind and body were really resting, in spite of not quite comfortable position. Later he only felt that he was put down cautiously, the pillow was put under his head and his spectacles were removed, but it didn't really wake him. He felt warm and comfortable.

Harry was asleep for more than two hours already and Draco couldn't make himself stop looking at him, sitting next to him. The brunet was snoring softly. Sometimes his eyes were moving under the eyelids or his eyelashes were fluttering a little. The attentive grey eyes were noticing every detail, even if they'd seen it all before. Eventually, Draco got bored and went out on the balcony for a while, then came down to the living room to have dinner; but every time, being away, he hurried back to his sitting room to see his sleeping love, though not without frowning at his own sentimentality. The baby was sleeping as well. It seemed the child curled himself tightly into a ball, giving a relief to his daddy's ribs and lungs for some time. _'The kingdom of sleep,'_ Draco smiled to himself, rubbing his belly gently. At least, he could enjoy, taking almost deep breaths of the fresh air, - it was raining outside and the balcony doors were opened wide, letting the freshness in.

Something soft, pleasant and slightly wet was touching his mouth, and Harry started to wake. The smile appeared on his face as he opened his eyes and saw Draco above him. The blond was planting the light kisses on Harry's lips.

"Oh, God..." the brunet sighed with delight.

"No, it's just me," the pink lips replied and touched him again. This time the very tip of the soft tongue slid between Harry's lips, but retreated as soon as Harry tried to kiss back. Draco was teasing him, breaking the kisses.

"I couldn't have imagined a better way of being awakened. I fell asleep, sorry." Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes. He was pleased to see that Draco's knees and elbows were astride his body and to feel their bellies slightly pressed together again. The closeness felt incredibly touching.

"That's all right. I was just... lonely," the blond answered with a faint tone of seductiveness. Harry held him in his arms, stroking his back and looking up at him.

"Oh, baby, you could have woken me up sooner then," he smiled.

"I couldn't. Consider me generous, benevolent or even sappy today. You're a bad influence, Harry Potter," Draco teased with the low voice, which made Harry's penis start to rise; and the pink lips touched Harry's neck, making the brunet hold his breath. They kissed; their hands were touching, caressing... When Draco pulled Harry's tee shirt up, the brunet willingly helped him to take it off. His heart was beating sweetly in his chest in some kind of an expectation, and he was already fully hard. He didn't know what exactly was on Draco's mind, but he was dying to find out, and he was more than glad to see such eagerness. The blonde's mouth was kissing his chest, teasing his nipples, and then moved lower. He rubbed his cheek against Harry's lower abdomen, slightly covered with the dark hair, then kissed it. Panting and moaning quietly, Harry was still marvelling at the way his senses had sharpened again after he'd become free of the curse that had been stifling and smothering everything in him. Now he was free and the feeling was breathtaking. Actually, the feeling was blooming luxuriantly inside of him. But the most wonderful thing was the awareness that he was lying half-naked with _**Draco**_ atop of him, and he couldn't get enough of touching his hair, so soft and so blond; the awareness that he was loved and wanted. He couldn't hold back the smile at the thought. Loved and wanted... A little too overwhelmed with joy, he hardly noticed that the blond had already unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, so when he felt that the gentle hand slid down his pants, touched his bare flesh and pulled it out, Harry groaned loudly and deeply. He looked down, his breathing was shaking.

"Sit up..." Draco whispered. He moved down on the floor on his knees. Harry complied, eager to do anything to make Draco feel comfortable. He pressed his back against the back of the canapé and put his feet on the floor. The blond moved closer between Harry's legs...

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><p>...He looked down and Draco looked back at him with his cheek pressed to the brunet's knee. Harry helped him to stand up and pulled him closer to kiss. He would love to take all the blonde's clothes off, see every part of his body (of course, he'd seen him almost naked near the river earlier this day, but he hadn't had a chance to take a closer look), wanted to touch and to kiss every part of him. Draco seemed to guess his intentions somehow, and shook his head.<p>

"Not today," he said. Harry sighed, thinking that, perhaps, such activity simply wasn't allowed in Draco's condition, or he wasn't ready, so the brunet was just holding him in his arms, enjoying everything his love was willing to give.

When it was time for Harry to go, neither of them wanted him to leave, but both remained quiet about it. Harry pressed himself against Draco's back and wrapped his arms around his belly, supporting the underside of it, to unburden the blonde's suffering back a little. Draco closed his eyes, relaxing, as his whole body was resting against the strong body behind his, enjoying the way Harry was holding him so securely and feeling the warm breath against his ear. The brunet was looking at them in the mirror, then buried his face into the fair hair and forgot everything else. It was just softness and wonderful, fresh smell.

"Good night, love," he said gently against the back of the blond head.

"Tomorrow?" Draco asked.

"Of course. Tomorrow," Harry confirmed.

"This time try to sleep."

"I'll try."

Harry left after kissing Draco's lips and his tummy goodnight, but returned in the morning. Florie, still not very friendly, but politely, told him that her young master was still in the bedroom, but was expecting Harry, nevertheless. Draco invited him in when he knocked. He was still in bed, lying on his side with a pillow between his knees.

"Hi..."

"Morning, Harry."

"What is it? Are you okay?" the brunet asked, kneeling next to bed and kissing Draco's cheek.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just resting after bath."

"You scared me," Harry sighed in relief.

"I'm just tired all the time. Need some time to bestir myself in the morning," the blond explained.

"But you're looking good anyway," Harry smiled.

"Good to know," Draco returned the smile. "Ugh... My back hurts," he frowned and shifted a little.

"Do you want a massage?" Harry offered. The blond hesitated for a second, but the offer was quite... tempting.

"Rather," he nodded. He turned on his back and gave Harry a flask of fragrant oil from his bedside table. Sometimes he used it for his belly, because the skin was slightly itching occasionally, since the belly had started to grow.

Harry started with his feet, rubbing them gently with his oily hands, paying attention to every toe, and then he moved to the ankles and calves. Draco was in bliss, though aching a little at the same time, since his legs were tired most of the time almost equally with his back, even if he'd got used to it a little, as opposed to the back pains. Harry was looking at him sympathetically, realising how hard the pregnancy for Draco really was, he could feel the tension with his hands. He spared neither time nor efforts to dissolve every knot of tension. The muscles were relaxing under his warm and caring palms and fingertips.

"Ooh... I'd pay you a fortune for doing this every day," the blond moaned in relief.

"No, thanks. It's free," Harry smiled. He only stopped when he felt that the blonde's legs were completely relaxed. He pulled the sheet, which was covering Draco, higher. The blond was looking at him curiously. Very soon Harry started to suspect that Draco was completely naked under the sheet and it led his thoughts in even more pleasant directions, however, he decided to ignore it for now. He started to massage Draco's thighs, though they were less tense. Draco didn't mind when the brunet pulled the sheet down and exposed his belly. Harry was looking at it with interest and curiosity. He noticed the way the navel was popped out; he also saw a thin strip from the navel down to the pubis. It was a little darker than Draco's normally pale skin. Harry traced the strip with his finger. He looked up to see the blonde's reaction and was glad to see that he didn't mind at all about being touched like this. Since there was no disapproval, Harry was rubbing the sides of the tummy with his oiled hands, then kissed the protruded belly button, but kept stroking the belly. When he felt little movements under his palms, as if a reaction to his touches, he smiled happily in surprise. Draco smiled, too. He'd got used to such things, but for Harry it was still new, and he enjoyed every moment.

After massaging the blonde's hands and arms, Harry helped him to get up on his knees and started to work on his neck, shoulders and back, especially the small of his back, where the tension was higher than anywhere else. Harry was trying his best, knowing that this beautiful posture was going through a lot of stress due to the load. The blond was purring in delight at the touches. And what was more, it was arousing.

"Are you certain you want to become an Auror? You definitely have some other remarkable talents. And quite skilful hands, too," the blond said lazily.

"I'm sure you wouldn't want me to touch anyone else," Harry smiled.

"Well, yes, it's true."

"Feeling better?"

"Much better. But still, not good enough," the blond replied playfully, but softly.

"Your any wish will be fulfilled, my prince."

"Any?" Draco turned to him and held him in his arms. Their lips locked in a long and sweet kiss. The blond broke it. "How about this one?" he whispered, directing Harry's hand down to his groin under the sheet, shaking slightly while doing so. The brunet took the hard erection in his hand and squeezed it gently, making Draco gasp and close his eyes. "Yes... Yes, touch me..."

"Gods. Want you so bad..." Harry whispered, breathing heavily, and kissed the pale neck.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Draco helped Harry to take off his clothes; their hands were trembling a little and impatient. Touching and kissing each other fervently, they couldn't get enough. Harry tried to press his groin against Draco's, but it wasn't easy because of his belly. He smiled and just took the blonde's member in his hand again. He made Draco lie down and started to kiss his body self-forgetfully, desiring to gain more and more of those sweet mewls and moans. He felt the way the blonde's body somehow had become a little softer than before the pregnancy; some parts had rounded out just a little bit - like his buttocks and thighs, for example. Harry wouldn't have even noticed it, if he hadn't been exploring this body so often before. He didn't really care - Draco was always beautiful to him. He also noticed that the blonde's nipples had become extremely sensitive; it probably had something to do with pregnancy, too. Harry was gentle with them not to cause pain...

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><p>...They gave themselves only a few moments to get their breath before embracing each other, and their lips met again in the long, passionate kisses. They held each other as if afraid to let go, as if they were about to be separated forever.<p>

Almost the entire day they spent in bed, mostly just talking or kissing, just enjoying spending their time together and getting used to each other anew. In the evening Harry sighed with sadness.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked him, looking worried. Every change in Harry's demeanour, like this one, made him a little nervous, as if he was expecting something painful to happen.

"I don't want to go," the brunet confessed.

"Is anyone trying to turn you out?" Draco smiled in relief.

"No," Harry shook his head and kissed the blond eyebrow.

"Then what's the problem? I don't want you to leave."

"Then I'm staying here tonight," Harry smiled.

And he stayed. However, the night wasn't untroubled. It seemed that the only thing that mattered was the fact that Harry was pressing himself to the back of his beloved one with his arms around him, but his subconsciousness presented him with the unpleasant surprise. He had a bad dream. He saw Ginny's face in front of him. She was telling him about her love; she told him that she'd do anything to be together with him, to make him hers. She tried to convince him that he would _**never**_ find any happiness with anyone else, that they meant to be together, that it was his fate. He tried to argue, but couldn't hear his own voice, and she kept talking. Her eyes were trying to break his will, but he couldn't look away, even if he wanted to hit her face, just to make her stop talking.

Draco woke him up by flinching in his sleep and Harry realised that he wasn't the only one who'd had a nightmare.

"Mother... M-mother..." the blond whimpered very quietly. Harry shook him out of sleep gently. Draco lifted his head a little and looked around perplexedly.

"It's okay," Harry whispered.

"What is it?"

"Just a bad dream."

"Really? I don't remember..." Draco mumbled sleepily. His head returned on the pillow and he straightened the other pillow that was placed between his knees to make himself more comfortable before he went back to sleep. Harry kissed his neck. He was still a little upset about the dream, but decided not to let it ruin their night. It was the first time they were sleeping together after a long period of being apart. It had been his cherished wish that came true. _'Some stupid dream. __Hah...'_

In the morning after breakfast Harry remembered that he was supposed to meet Ron to sign up for the Auror training together, but he didn't want to leave Draco at all. However, the blond convinced him to go and Harry left, knowing that Draco would be waiting for his return. On the way to the front door downstairs, they met Neville, who was looking in silent shock as they were holding hands, quite... fascinated with each other, even if Harry was obviously in haste.

"Hi, Nev," Harry smiled, really glad to see his school friend.

"Umm... Hi..." the other youth replied quietly. They shook hands. The house was full of surprises, indeed. Finding pregnant Malfoy had only been the beginning.

"Too bad, I don't have any time to talk to you right now," Harry told him sincerely. "But I hope to see you later," he added cheerfully, kissed Draco's cheek, quickly left the house and disapparated, knowing that he was about to be late, though, not feeling well about leaving in such hurry without even proper goodbyes. _'I'll catch up on everything,'_ he promised himself with a smile. He was full of life again.

Neither Ron nor Harry faced any difficulties, signing up for the training, but taking care of all the formalities took their whole day, and Harry was getting more and more nervous. When they were finally dismissed, he apparated back to Draco without delay. Seeing his fair-haired lover's concerned face after entering his sitting room, and then a relief, he realised that they both had acquired some separation anxiety. But everything was back to normal, once they found themselves in each other's arms, kissing madly and frantically. At supper Harry told Draco about his day, entertaining him with a story about one of the Aurors he'd met among his future tutors. The man had tried to purify some very dark artefact several years ago, it was his speciality, but something had gone wrong and his personality had split. It seemed he had got accustomed to it, but had to write everything down all the time to keep his alter informed about all the events and conversations, and they both were exchanging messages, like best friends, even playing jokes on each other or arguing sometimes. At least, that was what Harry had heard from the other people. The delicious food and their conversation put them both in a very good mood.

This night they were making love gently and slowly, completely absorbed in each other, until they both were exhausted and fell asleep, cuddling up together. Nothing else existed.

Soon enough they started to live together. At first, Harry couldn't imagine living in this house, but Draco didn't want to live anywhere else, not to mention that he was really attached to Snape. Harry was very concerned about Snape's reaction, since it was the man's house. At first, Severus consoled himself, thinking that the house was roomy enough for them. Then he thought that the irony was amusing, since the whole castle of Hogwarts hadn't been big enough for him and Potter. But, in the end, he decided that he didn't want to hurt Draco, so he allowed it to happen. Surprisingly, he didn't really care about Potter's presence. He'd already started to get used to the thought that he was meant to endure Potter's company since the brat had entered the school (or, more likely, before it, indirectly) till the rest of his life. But Draco was happy and it meant a lot, Severus' privacy was respected and Potter wasn't really giving him any trouble so far; so, even if he was hardly happy about the new inhabitant of the house, being a loner in many respects, he took it better than anyone had expected. Harry didn't know what gods he should thank for that miracle. Even if they were hardly talking to each other, he believed, it was a good start. He became even more certain of this, thinking about the memories that Snape had given him, quite sure that he'd been dying and wouldn't have another chance to make everything clear.

Draco was more than relieved to know that they didn't make him choose between them, because he needed both of them. He felt content, living in a good and comfortable house with people he loved, expecting a child and knowing that he wouldn't have to wait too long - just a month or so. Harry started the Auror training, but it wasn't taking too much time from him and Draco so far.

Even so, this day Draco was bored and the day seemed to be good for taking a walk. Since Harry was on his training and Severus was busy with Longbottoms (Draco didn't even have Neville to annoy and pick on, because today the Gryffindor hadn't come, unfortunately), he went alone. It was as peaceful as usually. He sat down on the big stone and relaxed. Too bad, Harry wasn't there with him. He missed him a lot today and was a little angry about it. _'Seriously, you always need some personal space and some time for yourself, too. You need it every day or you'll just go crazy, so stop these lamentations. He'll be back soon and you'll be able to hang on his neck, like you always do, and whine all you like about how much you missed him,'_ he told himself sternly. Their lives were returning back to normal and it wasn't wise to be upset without even having a good reason. He remembered the way Harry's lips had kissed his mouth, cheek, shoulder and hipbone in the morning when Harry had been leaving. Draco hadn't been awoken yet, but felt the loving kisses through his sleep. And when Harry had left, the blond had moved himself sleepily on the other side of the bed, which had still kept some warmth of Harry's body...

"What a nice place you've picked," he suddenly heard and jumped in surprise. The voice belonged to a woman and it wasn't familiar. He stood up quickly and turned in her direction, already starting to think about an explanation for his belly, not to let the stranger think about the obvious things, though it was hardly possible. At the same time, he took a wand in his hand, in case he would have to obliviate her, whoever she was, if she wasn't strong enough to resist it. He'd never seen any strangers near the forest at all, so it was quite unexpected. The woman wasn't alone - a man was standing next to her. It took Draco less than a second to realise that it wasn't a chance meeting and they weren't just some casual strangers. Their very presence, their specific black robes made his heart clench painfully. _'The Death Eaters...' _His mind stubbornly refused to believe in what was happening; it seemed so unreal. Just some moments ago nothing had foreshadowed the trouble. He knew he'd seen the woman's face before, but he couldn't remember where and when. She was tall, her hair was dark-blond, tinted with a shade of grey, though it wasn't something about her age - she didn't look old at all. Most likely, she was middle-aged. Her eyes were very light grey, as far as Draco could notice from the distance. She was a well-groomed woman, but there was nothing truly remarkable about her. Draco wasn't really scrutinising her; his thoughts were already too busy.

Everything was too unexpected, too fast to think, however, some things were obvious: he was too heavy to try to run away, he was too vulnerable to fight, too afraid to get hurt, even if he was equal (and he knew that he wasn't); and finally: no portkeys to try to disapparate and get home. _'Help... Anyone.'_ He didn't know if he should shield himself. But why? They weren't doing anything yet and it would be stupid to waste his magic. Attacking them wasn't a good idea as well. They were stronger, obviously, and he didn't want to provoke them. He hated himself for being so confused, for being unable to think clearly, for being scared almost rigid. Still unarmed and absolutely calm, they were looking at him and his wand sceptically. Draco became aware that someone else was behind him as the woman nodded to that person, whom he couldn't see, but he didn't have a chance to turn around and see who it was. Too fast...

"Stupefy," he heard the voice behind and saw red, the wand fell out of his hand as the wave of magic hit him. His body became paralysed instantly. He couldn't fight the all-absorbing unconsciousness, but he did everything he could to avoid falling on his belly, shrinking back. Hitting the ground, he lost consciousness even before he could feel any pain. The three black-robed people approached his motionless body on the grass.

"Lionel, you take the boy. Try not to harm him; we still don't know our Lord's plans for him," the woman said to the one of her companions. He nodded respectfully and obeyed. Big and strong, he easily picked up Draco's limp and insensible body. The boy's head was dangling as if his neck was boneless, as the man was carrying him in his arms. He almost resembled a rag doll and seemed lifeless in his dead faint. One of his eyes was half-opened, the pupil motionless, which only supported the impression of his lifelessness. Just in case, the man made sure that the blond boy was breathing. He didn't want to disappoint his Lord.

Harry apparated to the house and looked up at the balcony out of the recently formed habit. Quite often Draco was looking out when Harry was coming back, sometimes covertly, from behind the curtain, though he'd always been caught in the act, and that made Harry know that he'd been missed a lot and waited. Because of that he never lingered after the training even for a while. Just sometimes he could spend some time with Ron or both Ron and Hermione, but Draco was always warned about it. This time Draco wasn't looking out and Harry wondered if he was sleeping or walking in the garden, however, it was unusual for him when Harry returned home. Yes, home... He entered the house and saw Snape in the living room. He was preparing some kind of a ritual. Most furniture was moved to the walls. Something was obviously wrong. The man's normally cold face couldn't hold back some anxiety. Quickly he looked through the page of an opened book on the table. Harry noticed a handkerchief in his hand. Snape was ignoring him, too busy with whatever he was doing.

"What's going on, sir? Where's Draco?" Harry asked, already feeling uneasy.

"Abducted," Severus replied without looking back.

"No... Oh, please, no..." Harry gasped, becoming weak in the knees. Dizzy with worry he tried to collect his thoughts, but failed. The wave of hot hit the back of his head and he wanted to grasp at something to keep the balance.

"Stop it," the man said firmly to prevent the younger wizard from going off into hysterics.

"But how? How did you know? Who could... Did you see them?"

"He was going for a walk and I promised to join him after finishing my work. But I only found his wand near the river," Severus said. Before he could continue his story, Harry interrupted him. There was a terror on his face.

"What if he's drowned?" he exclaimed.

"I strongly oppose this version. He never goes swimming with no one else around to look after him. And, most assuredly, he doesn't go swimming with his clothes on; he would have left it on the bank as well, don't you think? Now, if you will allow me to continue," the man frowned, irritated about the way he had to spoon-feed everything to Potter, who couldn't think straight right now, when it was so necessary. His words and the timbre of his voice would have made Harry feel stupid in the other circumstances, but now he felt just helpless and worried sick. "Judging by the trails on the ground and by the traces of magic, someone knocked Draco down, then picked him up; unconscious or, at least, immobilised. There were three people. I believe one of them was a woman. They disapparated with Draco, beyond a doubt," Severus finished, trying his best not to get angry because of the time he was wasting, answering questions instead of starting the ritual. However, he could hardly remember when Potter had been listening to him so carefully.

"What are you trying to do now?" Harry asked. A lump in his throat made his voice sound odd.

"I'm trying to perform a tracking ritual, using his blood. It requires some time and concentration; quite problematic, as you keep distracting me from it."

"H-his blood?.." Harry whispered, appalled by the thought that Draco was badly injured on top of everything. Briefly the irritated man explained that several years ago Draco had cut himself accidentally, preparing some ingredients for the potion. Before tending the cut, Severus had wiped the blood with the handkerchief and then he'd decided to keep it in case something would happen and he would need to find the boy. The blood would be helpful in such kind of a task, unless someone used other spells to prevent it from working. Harry approved his prudence, but took a handkerchief out of the man's hand, shaking his head.

"Don't... There's much easier way to find him. I have a compass. Stay here, sir... Please. I'll be right back," he said quickly and ran upstairs, nearly stumbling over the steps. Severus scowled at him, but remained silent, summoning up his patience. He hated the incoherence, the useless running about and the panic, but, if Potter had a better idea how to find Draco, Severus would bear with it. Rather quickly Harry found the silver compass among his belongings and kissed it, once again thanking Draco for this incredibly useful gift in his thoughts. Just as quickly, he ran downstairs and firecalled Ron and Hermione. Without any proper explanations he asked for their help, and, since they could see the panic on their friend's face, they flooed in immediately. Shortly Harry explained the situation and they decided not to waste any more time.

The cold was the first thing he felt. The second thing he realised was that he was lying on something cold and hard. The stone floor. He also became aware that he was very thirsty. It was painful to open his eyes and he could hardly see at first. He was in some kind of a dungeon and it was dark. Still half-conscious, but already feeling panic, growing inside of his chest and stomach, Draco closed his eyes and was scared to open them again. So painfully familiar... It wasn't one of his nightmares though. It was real. He was frightened to open his eyes again, afraid to turn his head and see his dead mother, lying next to him. The terror was spreading throughout him like a plague. If not the panic, he would have fully realised how fresh the memories of dread, extraordinary pain and humiliation were. The wounds of the past still weren't healed, it appeared, even if he'd thought different. The cold, the stone floor, the semidarkness of the chamber that smelled like fear, pain and despair. It had been learned by heart. It seemed the next moment he would hear the footsteps that had used to make his insides clench and his heart to beat madly, trying to escape through his burned throat; and Lucius or Volemort himself would enter the chamber, opening the barred door with the loud, unpleasant sound, resembling someone's squeak. They would only come to him with well-known purposes: to hurt, to torture, to hear him cry. He would probably start weeping before they started tormenting him again. Begging would only enrage Lucius and amuse the Dark Lord. The hours of insufferable pain would follow, at any rate. Pain, agony, shame, humiliation, hopelessness. Draco was so terrified that he was afraid to make a sound, but, eventually, the sob escaped him and it was louder than he'd wanted it to be. It echoed from the stone walls through the empty space he alone was occupying. It hurt too much. His vision was blurry when he ventured to look around again. But when he was able to focus, he realised that it wasn't the same chamber he'd feared to see. It looked different. Trying to force his mind to work, at the same time, he reminded himself that Severus had saved him from the captivity, sheltered him and nursed him back to life and back to health (at the very least, he'd done the best that could have been done about it); Harry had destroyed Voldemort, someone had killed Lucius during the battle. His tormentors were dead, destroyed, forever gone, so they couldn't hurt him anymore, could they? But that didn't mean he was safe. He wondered if he'd been taken away by the Ministry. He'd never been to Azkaban, but he thought, the place was hardly the prison, according to what he'd heard about Azkaban anyway. The next moment he remembered what had happened to him before he'd fainted. The Death Eaters... Another stab of anxiety hit him as he was conscious enough to remember that he was pregnant. Almost fervently, even if his hands were very weak and refused to move properly, he rubbed his belly to encourage the child to move, to let his father know that he was all right. _'Please, move...'_ Finally feeling the movement and a small foot, placed under his ribs, he sighed in relief, in spite of the discomfort. The next thing to do was checking himself to find out if he was injured. It seemed nothing was broken and he wasn't bleeding, though his body was sore and he was sure that there were bruises. He wanted to know where he was and got up with an effort. Feeling too dizzy to walk, he kneeled and moved to the narrow, barred door almost on his four. The doorway appeared to be low and it was hardly possible to move through it without bending down a little. There was a dim light outside, but he couldn't see anything. He didn't have a chance to move close enough, actually, he wasn't even one sixth of the way to the barred door as he noticed a shackle around his ankle and a short chain... Once the chain was straightened, it became visible; that was how it worked. Draco moved back on the spot where he'd regained consciousness, hoping to find just a little warmth. The chain and the shackle became invisible again. Draco rubbed his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself. It was so cold... The only (hardly significant) source of light and warmth was a hanging metal bowl under the ceiling with the dying fire inside of it. Suddenly Draco remembered something that had taken place after he'd been taken away. He'd been hearing and feeling something quite remotely, being half-conscious just for a while. He'd felt some rocking as someone was carrying him in their arms. And he'd heard 'a sound' of the tunnels as if he was somewhere deep under the ground. But, at the same time, he could distantly hear something, resembling a train. It could have been just a dream and it wasn't helpful anyway, so it wasn't worth trying hard to remember the details. He didn't know where he was and he didn't know for how long he'd been unconscious. He hoped that nothing had happened to Harry and Severus and they were already searching for him. On the other hand... The people who'd kidnapped him had probably set up a trap or just made sure that he wouldn't be found. He wondered if they wanted Severus or Harry to take revenge on one of them or something. Or maybe they wanted personally him or... his baby? He tried not to panic, thinking that he lived with two war heroes, the powerful wizards, who cared for him. They would turn the world (or both) upside down to find him. And Harry had a compass that would help them to find him. They wouldn't leave him.., unless something had happened to them as well.

It seemed he had to wait for hours before hearing the steps outside. But he hadn't really been waiting for them; quite the opposite. His heart started to beat faster. The fire blazed up in the bowl under the ceiling anew, and the chamber became much more illuminated. Once the black-robed figure entered the chamber, it approached him; a woman, the one he'd seen before he'd been knocked out with the spell. He crawled back to the wall and pressed his back against it. There still was no wand in her hands; instead, there was a long cigarette holder with the smouldering cigarette. She inhaled. Draco wrinkled his nose at the smell of the smoke. She kept looking at him, but her expression was unreadable.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked quietly as he couldn't keep silence anymore.

"Harry Potter," she replied almost unemotionally. Draco couldn't help thinking that she looked like she was waiting for something and didn't really know what to do with him. But then her lips, covered with black lipstick, twitched in a smile, and her very light, grey eyes looked down at his belly. He frowned and put his hands on it protectively as if her stare could hurt his child. "Draco, your father would have been so disappointed in you," she shook her head. He wasn't in the mood to explain that it was Lucius who had made it possible, in the first place. It was none of her business anyway.

"So, I'm the bait then..." he nodded instead.

"Yes and no. At first I thought you were a hostage, but now I can tell that our Lord has the other things in his mind. Harry Potter will find you sooner or later. But you'll be already dead. That's going to kill him. And I'll be already far away to keep a low profile for some time. My original plan has failed, but, to my surprise, I've found you. And this," she said, looking at his belly again.

"Who are you? Who is that Lord of yours?" he whispered, trying to ignore that she had just admitted that she was going to kill him.

"The name is Medea, though I don't see why it is so important for you to know," she shrugged, putting her cigarette out. Draco became thoughtful for a few moments. _'Medea... Medea...'_ It sounded so familiar.

"Medea Levington," he said quietly, remembering that the name had been mentioned in the paper, in the article about Harry. She was the one who had nearly ruined his mind. And Draco had also seen her picture in the paper; that was the reason he'd thought she looked familiar when he'd seen her near the river.

"Exactly. What of my Lord... What a strange question, young Malfoy," she smiled and Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"What are you trying to do? Voldemort can not be resurrected. Please, just let me go..." he started to panic as she stepped closer and kneeled in front of him to look in his eyes. He wanted to gain time by talking to her, but it was so hard to stay calm.

"Everyone has become so brave, saying his name aloud. I thought that everything was lost with his death. I was never close enough to him, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't his loyal servant. When everyone thought he was dead, I gained a reward, a blessing. I know I'm not worthy, but I can hear him in my thoughts. I could feel it since the moment he gave me the Dark Mark. But it felt very... faint until he was destroyed. And now he speaks to me. He made me recollect the remains of his followers. You'd be surprised if you knew how many followers he still has. He speaks to them through me. He's here," she said and touched her head with her fingertips. Draco felt his hair stood on end. He was trembling now and the cold was hardly the main reason for it. "Our army needs... something encouraging. Harry Potter will be destroyed gradually and this world will feel vulnerable. Can you imagine it?"

"You're sick..." Draco whispered in shock. Strangely, she looked so sane and serious that he started to doubt if the Dark Lord, THE-ONE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED (not Voldemort to him anymore), had really been destroyed once and for all. No, the ugly bastard couldn't survive. Every piece of his soul was destroyed. But what if..?

"It's not that I'm in hurry, but let's finish with this," Medea said calmly, taking a wand out of her sleeve. Only then did he realise that he was really going to die. And his child, too. She wasn't joking or playing with him. He clung fast to the wall in terror.

"Please, don't... Don't kill me. I'm with child..." he begged weakly, trying to move her to pity. She was a woman, how couldn't she understand his feelings? He wondered if she had her own children.

"Yes, I know," she nodded, pointing her wand at him. "I'm sorry." She passed her hand through his hair gently; the gesture that meant to soothe him, from her point of view. Unfortunately for Draco, there was no real compassion in her eyes. The will of her master was all that really mattered.

"Please, don't kill my child! Please..." he kept begging in a constraint voice, looking right into her eyes in front of him. "Not him..."

"I must follow the order and kill you," the woman said. "But there's no order about your baby. As far as I understand, he's developed enough to survive without you. Do you really want me to let him live?"

"Yes..." Draco whispered.

"If it is your last will, who am I to take it from you? Lie down," she said and moved away a little. He obeyed and lay down on his back. In shock he saw her taking the dagger out of the one of her knee-high boots with the silver buckles and he became numb with fear. The heart was slamming in his chest madly. Oddly carefully she unbuttoned his shirt up to the top buttons.

"What are you going to do to him?" he mouthed as his voice was suddenly gone.

"Why? Isn't it comforting enough for you to know that he'll live? Maybe I'll leave him near some orphanage, it's a classical decision, or... I could take care of him myself."

"Don't..." he whimpered hardly audible. Part of him was ready to do anything just to give his son a chance to survive; he was ready to do anything for him. The other part of him knew that his child wouldn't have any normal life. And why on Earth would he trust this woman (a Death Eater, a murderer)? He didn't want his son to come into this world to suffer. Draco was torn between those two options and couldn't decide what was worse. The only chance was the remote possibility that Harry would find the baby later, but was it possible at all? The woman was determined to make Harry's life a living hell, so she wouldn't let him have his son, and, most likely, she would use the child to give Harry a faint hope to find his son someday and then shatter that hope to drive him crazy, to destroy him. She would probably even wreak her hate upon the baby, because he was Harry's.

Draco's thoughts became even more feverish and tangled when Medea brought a sharp blade to his belly, making him shake in a terrible anticipation.

"Don't writhe, if you don't want me to hurt him. Lie still," she warned. She was about to do it... She was actually about to cut him open and literally eviscerate him! For a few moments of realisation, he was so paralysed with fear that he could hardly breathe. _'This can't be happening to me... This isn't happening...'_ How would his son live without him, who was going to take care of him? Was his little one destined to become a slave to Death Eaters right from his 'birth'? Draco would be found by his loved ones like that - eviscerated... He wanted to beg for mercy again, promise to do anything, even if it was useless. But instead he could only emit quiet wails. He hated himself for his helplessness. He couldn't even speak! The only thing he ventured to do was looking in the eyes of his to-be murderer, feeling as if he was going to explode with sickening desperation. She looked back. There was no mockery on her face, it looked almost blank, but there was something special about it. And he realised what it was. Yes, he knew that look - the look of the one who enjoyed causing pain. It could only mean that she preferred not to let him die quickly. Draco still didn't know what was worse: let his son die with him, or let him live with the monsters. The dilemma was too cruel, too unfair. He started to give up, wishing it to end sooner. But, in the end, his instinct of self-preservation prevailed when he felt the cold and sharp steel against his skin. Overtaken by panic, he reached out his arm to the right of himself where he saw a stone. It wasn't big, but it felt heavy in his hand. Before Medea had a chance to react, he hit her temple with a stone, clenching it in his hand. The dagger slipped out of her hand and she pressed a palm to the wound, looking deafened and shocked. Inspired by his successful hysterical attempt, Draco leaned forward to hit the woman again. But this time, overcoming the pain and confusion, she pushed him back and grabbed the dagger again as he failed to forestall her. And yet, he sat up on his knees and there was a desperate bustle and struggle between them. She disarmed him of the stone and he knocked the wand out of her hand, failing to take possession of it. The wand rolled away and neither of them could reach out to take it...

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><p>Don't follow the link if you're not 18 yet:<p>

http (colon) (double slash) hp . adultfanfiction . net (slash) story . php ? no (equals sign) 600093977 (ampersand) chapter (equals sign) 20

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><p>...When Medea saw him subdued enough and heard him crying for mercy wordlessly, but loudly, she moved away quickly, seeing that he wouldn't be able to attack; however, he saw her moving to pick up her wand and tried to stop her. Their movements weren't accurate or smooth; on the contrary: Draco was injured and Medea still hadn't recovered from the hit in her head. She grabbed her wand and stood up quickly, but clumsily. Draco followed just as ungracefully and tried to catch her hands and disarm her again or even take a hold of her wand, if lucky. Regrettably, when he almost reached the woman and, perhaps, even had a good chance to succeed, something stopped him. He heard the clang of the chain and looked down; it was straightened, therefore it became visible. Draco raised his scared eyes at his tormentor. She was staring back with the triumphant sneer, looking almost crazy with her now slightly dishevelled hair and fogged eyes that clearly showed that she had, at least, the small concussion of the brain, caused by Draco's hit. She was swaying on her feet a little and Draco could hardly stand, too. Both were breathing hard and trembling. Without hesitating; ignoring (or, probably, even enjoying) the fear and the entreaty in the youth's eyes, Medea pressed the tip of the wand to his throat. He only had a time to reel back a little before she whispered:<p>

"Crucio..."

The whole Draco's world was torn apart by pain. The hell was back...


	21. 20 Care for the living peace to the dead

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Sun (Chapters have to end somewhere ;). Please, enjoy the next one. No cliffhangers this time :) ), Arcania (Thanks! I think I'm in time ;) ), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Please, enjoy and thank you for reviewing :)!), Lilyth (Thank you so much!), buttercup123 (Not at all! I enjoy reading them :). Thanks!), Psychosocial (What can I say... I love writing angsty things and create some tension :). Thank you!), Aquarinus (The irony, indeed! And, yes, I really tried to deepen their relationship. Glad if I succeeded :). Thanks!), lostsouloftheunderworld (Morning, dear ;)! Unfortunately, I can't provide you with coffee, but the story is waiting for you :). Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing!), lizziemarie0529 (Thank you! Here's the next one and I hope you're going to like it :). ), sara (Who said loving Harry was easy? ;) Thanks!), Battery (Already! Thank you.), Serpent Charmer (Thanks! Glad you like it so much :). And I'm not going to stop.)

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><p><strong><em>20. Care for the living, peace to the dead<em>**

To everyone's frustration Weasley's flying car cut out. Two hours of searching for Draco appeared to be fruitless. The compass was leading them in some roundabout ways, but the direction finally became clearer as soon as they found themselves in the Muggle World. The compass wasn't shining even a tiny bit, which meant Draco was far away. Everyone approved Hermione's offer to go by taxi. The driver wasn't particularly pleased that these strange nervous-looking people couldn't specify the address, looking at 'some fancy device', only telling him where he had to turn and hurried him all the time, making him break the traffic rules several times. Eventually, the compass started to shine with the very bright pale-blue light. Harry's heart was beating heavily in his chest. They were close, very close. When the light became so bright that it was hard to see anything at all, they asked the driver to stop the car and got out of it in the street, which looked almost deserted, not including some cars passing by. The Muggle World felt oddly alien to Harry, and it was a little hard for him to believe that he'd spent more than a half of his life here. It was already dark and it made the light of the compass look especially intense. Quickly the four people followed the dark-blue pointer, but then Harry stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, because the pointer had turned back. He turned around confusedly, studying the surroundings. There was nothing in the place the compass indicated, just an empty street and some houses that were too far away to hope that Draco was kept in one of them. Harry wanted to scream and pull out his hair. There was nothing and no one there.

"So?" Ron asked, looking at his paled friend and put his hand on the strained shoulder supportively.

"I don't understand... He should be here somewhere," Harry said quietly, feeling the way the hope was slowly leaving him treacherously. Ron's hand squeezed his shoulder hard enough to hurt and sober him up a little. Harry blamed himself for not letting Snape perform a tracking ritual with Draco's blood. What if that would have been more helpful? He expected the man to blame him aloud for his enormous self-assurance and foolishness.

"Underground then?" Severus offered, instead.

"Maybe," Harry gasped quietly, looking down. He ran to the bus station, where the map of the area was, and found the nearest underground station. Fortunately, it wasn't far away, and soon the searching party was there. But the station was under reconstruction, so, at first, it seemed a little problematic to get in, however, surprisingly, it didn't take much of an effort. Quickly and easily they stupefied and obliviated the security guards, and, without wasting any more time, descended the unmoving escalator. There was no one there: no more guards, no workers; the fact that the station was closed actually acted in their favour. Harry approached the edge of the poorly illuminated platform. The compass pointed to the right and Harry was going to move that way, hoping that the tunnels weren't twisting so much that it was actually the wrong tunnel, and the one they had to enter was the one on the other side of the station. Another doubt that tormented his mind was that they weren't in the right place at all. Weren't they wasting time, looking for Draco here? How could he be here? Why would the abductors, whoever they were, have taken him to the Muggle World and to the underground? Outwardly he didn't show his doubts and readily jumped down on a track. The others followed him.

"Don't step over there... and over there," Hermione pointed when Ron helped her to move down. "The third and fourth rails are powered. Well... Just keep off the rails," she warned, in case someone of her companions was unfamiliar with the dangers of the Tube.

They moved quickly into the dark tunnel. The compass wasn't shining too bright, but its light was enough to illuminate the way. Harry's heart and thoughts were with Draco. _'God, please, let him be okay. He's my life. Don't let them hurt him. I'll do anything... Just let him be okay. Oh, please, God,'_ he thought non-stop. Even if he was going to get into a trap, he didn't care. The very thought of losing Draco was making his heart stop and grow cold. They'd just found each other again, they loved each other, they'd been making plans, they'd become a family, and now, once again, someone wanted to ruin it. _'I won't let them. Draco, hold on... Wherever you are, whatever is happening to you right now, hold on.'_

Following the compass, eventually, they turned to the left from the main tunnel. There was the other one that obviously wasn't in use for a long time. The rails were rusted fast and there were some old, torn wires near the walls. Anxiety and hope rose in Harry when the compass was shining in its brightest, but the hope shattered as soon as the pointer turned back again, just like it had happened in the street somewhere above them.

"Fuck..." he whispered and stopped. Draco was somewhere close; alone, scared, probably injured, and it broke Harry's heart that he didn't know how to get to him. The others were looking around, catching their breath after a long run. Already on the verge of a breakdown, Harry noticed something on the wall not far off. He came closer quickly and saw magical symbols, written on the wall, half-erased from time. The hope made his heart beat faster. No one left anything like that in the Muggle World without a reason.

"Here!" he called. When everyone approached, Snape immediately started to cast some spells on the wall. After several of them the secret door revealed itself. For Harry it seemed just a little strange and awkward that he and Snape were working together; and yet, it felt right, like it had had to be from the very start, since they'd met years ago. The door absorbed his attention for a few moments. It was an old, dusty, large and heavy, double-wing door, made of steel with an unremarkable ornament. It opened itself in front of them, disturbing all the dust. It was just another portal to the Wizarding World, like hundreds of the other portals, but it seemed strange why couldn't they get there from the Wizarding World and had been forced to run in circles. They entered and found themselves in some kind of a half-ruined dungeon. The door closed behind them and disappeared.

"I have to send another patronus to my dad to make them find this place sooner," Ron muttered. He knew his father and several Aurors were already on their way. Harry nodded absently, half-listening to his friend. _'He's here... He has to be here,'_ Harry thought fervently, looking at the dark-blue pointer. Oh, gods, every second of delay could be another second of Draco's fear, pain and, Merlin knew, what else. The thought whipped him on more than effectively.

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><p>Draco was writhing on the floor in pain. It hurt a lot, but it felt different from what Lucius and the Dark Lord had been doing to him. When they had tortured him, the pain had been unspeakable, extraordinary, making him feel torn apart both physically and mentally; his very soul had been damaged and hurt beyond belief. And it had been hard for him to believe that anyone could live through that. Now it wasn't like that. The fact that he was still able to think, even if his thoughts were a mess, was a proof of it. He'd had enough in his past to compare. He knew this pain and he remembered that he'd wondered sometimes if he would have ever been able to forget. He didn't know if the woman wasn't really experienced in using exactly this spell or she was a skilful torturer, who decided to increase the pain gradually, to prevent her victim from fainting or from having the pain shock too soon. He tried to retreat into himself, tried not to hear his own cries, but no one could simply abstract away from the Cruciatus curse. But the other pain was much stronger: he knew that she was killing his son. If only Draco could take all the damage, he would willingly accept the pain with every cell of his body. He was ready to endure a lot more than this if he knew that he alone was suffering. But, as long as the child was a part of him, it was impossible to disconnect him from it. The thought that his son was in pain made him feel even more miserable. Not immediately he felt through the pain, caused by the torture, that his heart began to hurt - a familiar and frightening feeling, too. No, it was nothing... The most terrible thing was the feeling of his baby curling into a tight ball, probably, in some kind of attempt to defend himself or simply because of pain. Draco sobbed at this desperately. At the same time Medea had already broken his barriers and entered his mind. She looked through some memories.<p>

"Indeed, destiny is a fickle thing," she chuckled and even stopped the torture. "Did Lucius really think that the Dark Lord would have become his relative? Oh, you poor thing, Draco. What a cruel father Lucius was. Loyal to our Lord, I'm sure; albeit he overestimated his own importance. And he would have certainly lost his mind completely if he only knew that, instead of the Dark Lord, he has become related to Harry Potter. If he was still alive, he would have died from shame and disgrace."

She was playing with his mind. Torturing his body, she also made him hear the baby's crying, driving Draco crazy and making him scream insanely, even if he knew that the crying wasn't real. There was no name to such cruelty. She got bored soon though, so she left his mind alone. In a little while he felt that his baby stopped moving and Draco decided that everything was over. They both were doomed. He was still losing blood from his injured arms, and he knew it wouldn't take long for him to faint and die. _'I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. I tried...'_ he thought mournfully, feeling no movements inside. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that his little one wasn't in that excruciating agony anymore, but it didn't work. The feeling of emptiness seemed to be swallowing him up. He thought that he would have never been healed anyway after everything that had been done to him, after everything that had been lost. And then his baby had been a hope, a light of his life, but now it was gone, too, and he had nothing left, nothing at all. He'd seen the nightmares where the Death Eaters killed him and his child, but he'd never truly believed that it could have really happened to them. Just when he'd thought that everything had been fine, that he'd been happy and finally enjoyed his life, it was taken away from him. He would never see his baby, never hold him in his arms... He would never see Harry again. He didn't know why he was still trying to stay conscious as best as he could. It was already pointless.

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><p>Harry and his companions quickly found the right way in this seemingly endless dungeon. Very soon they reached the heavy door with the faint light coming from under it. Harry closed the compass, so it stopped shining, and held the wand in his hand firmly. All of them moved quietly to the door. It was Ron, who pushed it to open. There was a corridor with the other doors or just the doorways without doors. They heard the voices from one of the rooms. Two men were talking to each other:<p>

"...No, it's not the case. It wasn't them to blame," one man said.

"I know," the other one replied. There was a pause in their talk, but they didn't seem to be aware of the intrusion. Meanwhile, Severus was dispelling the wards he'd detected and Harry with his two friends were dealing with a magical trap that they'd found, scanning their surroundings. By the type of the wards Severus already knew that they were against the Death Eaters, and he wasn't surprised at all; what was more, he'd been almost sure about it before receiving the evidence; even from the very beginning.

"I'm going to be late for work. I wonder when Medea's going to finish here. She said it wouldn't take long."

"I don't know why she needs all of us. I think we can make it without you, so go. Say your wife hello."

"I will."

When the man, who suspected nothing, was leaving the room Harry and the others were ready to fight. Severus quickly put the powerful silencing spell on the area not to alert the other enemies, in case there were a lot of them. The Death Eater didn't have a chance even to take the wand in his hand. He was hit with body-bind spell that Harry had cast. His heavy body fell on the stone floor. The four intruders broke in the room. The other man had a better reaction and shielded himself, which helped him to avoid several spells, but he was outnumbered and the attack was too unexpected, so he joined his companion on the floor. They both were also paralysed with the dark spell, which Snape had cast, because he knew that there were ways to disentangle from the binding spells. His spell made both bodies look unhealthily ossified and their skin was covered with some kind of hoarfrost. The group moved on, quickly and quietly. Somehow the enemies already knew about the intrusion, so they were met by eight Death Eaters that literally appeared out of nowhere. Harry noticed that one of them ran away somewhere. The others attacked. The fight was desperate. Some spell burned Harry's arm, but all he could think about was Draco, so he dashed into the battle at breakneck speed. He had an advantage - the Death Eaters feared him after he'd destroyed their Lord once and for all. He was a powerful enemy, and not many were ready to challenge him. Snape also had some weighty advantages, being well-versed about their weak points and being an outstanding duellist. Harry injured one of the attackers gravely. The wounded man looked at Harry with dread and quickly disapparated. Two other joined him soon, preferring to escape before it wasn't too late. Harry's heart skipped a beat when he thought that someone could disapparate with Draco and they would have to search for him somewhere else. The Death Eaters... The other thing that caused pain was the bitter realisation that they'd captured Draco because of **_him_**. They needed Harry and they knew where it hurt most. However, he thought that their trap was lame so far. _'Draco, we're almost there. Hold on.'_ He looked around. His companions had already taken care of the other attackers. Three were lying on the floor unconscious and the other one was moaning in pain. Severus grabbed his shirt collar, set him up on his feet and shook him abruptly, making him gasp.

"Where's your hostage? Is he alive? Where is he?" he demanded. There was such a deep threat in his seemingly calm voice that the young Death Eater looked back at him like a mouse at the snake, feeling cold all over. He lifted his shaking hand and pointed the finger in the same direction where one of them had run, and that meant that they were now expected for sure. Severus paralysed the young enemy and let him fall on the floor freely.

* * *

><p>"I wanted to finish it quickly, but you chose <strong><em>this<em>**," Medea said, giving Draco another break after the Cruciatus. _'Liar... You're enjoying killing me slowly, even if it wasn't planned. You'll cause Harry even more pain like this, and you're thrilled by the thought that he'll find out that I was dying slowly and painfully,'_ he thought very weakly, too exhausted and damaged to think clearly. He wasn't even reacting at the physical pain properly anymore, because the misery was stronger. Actually, he didn't care what she was doing or saying. He couldn't even see her, lying on his side with his back turned on her. Instead, he remembered the way he'd wanted his child to die, even wishing him death, when he'd found out about pregnancy. How could anyone even think about such things? He found it relieving that his mind was already fading and numbing because of the grief, pain and loss of blood. He wanted to stop feeling and stop thinking what a deathblow it would be to Harry to find him and their baby dead. Soon it was going to end for him. It was then when he heard the concerned voice of a man, and the torture stopped again. Medea's voice was furious. Draco couldn't understand what they were talking about (he didn't really care anyway). All he understood was that the man was one of her lackeys, who tried to warn her about something.

"...You were supposed to ward the entrance properly!" Draco heard her exclaiming angrily.

"We weren't supposed to stay here **_this_** long," the man tried to make excuses. They were talking about something else, but Draco could hardly understand them.

* * *

><p>Harry's heart nearly stopped when they entered the chamber and saw Draco on the floor. His body was trembling painfully, but he was making no sound, and he looked badly injured. There was blood. Harry couldn't see his face as Draco was lying with his back turned to the entrance, and he wasn't sure he would be able to endure the look of the beloved face right now. It didn't look like reality to him anymore; it was more like a nightmare. Forgetting the caution, the four of them hurried to the shaking body on the floor. Once they all were inside, they heard the sounds of apparition behind their backs. Quickly they turned around, ready to fight. There, in the corridor, were several Death Eaters. Even if the dungeon wasn't illuminated well enough, Harry quickly recognised Medea Levington among them, because the investigators had showed him her photographs, asking if he had ever seen her before. She was the one to whom Ginny had paid to bewitch him.<p>

Although Medea had opposed the idea of confronting Harry Potter in the open fight, after what had happened to their Lord, and preferred the other ideas how to put him into grave, her Lord ordered her to fight, which meant he put a lot of trust in her skills! Oh, she wanted Harry Potter dead! She couldn't just leave, even if she'd planned to. Now she saw her archenemy and just couldn't retreat. What was so special about him? He was only a young man, even if he was a living legend; he was mortal. It was just a young man in front of her, desperate and grieving for his dying lover and their child. All right, he could supposedly fight The Unforgivables. So what? There were plenty of other spells and he couldn't fight all of them. She would do her best to please her Lord, who wasn't pleased with her, because her previous plans had failed. She was going to prove that she was worthy of his gift. Her head was half-healed after Draco's hit, she had already taken care of it, though she hadn't had enough time, but she was ready to fight.

The battle had started immediately, and, no matter how desperately Harry wanted to be by Draco's side, he was forced to fight for him first. Hermione gave him a look of understanding and kneeled behind Draco's back to cover him. She failed to disapparate with him to some safe place because of the wards or something else that she couldn't see, so she was now on the way of any accident curse; or, if anyone decided to hurt the blond again deliberately, she would shield him; of course, if they wouldn't cast the Unforgivables or some other spells her magical shields couldn't block. Nevertheless, she picked the moment to spell the bandages on Draco's hands and forearms, wondering if there were other injuries she could take care of, but couldn't see. It wasn't a proper healing, but it would stop the blood loss for the time. She also quickly covered him with her long overcoat, feeling how cold his skin was. Meanwhile, her companions had broken out of the chamber, where the enemies had intended to trap them, into the wide corridor, to have more space to fight and not to feel cornered. But Hermione stayed in the chamber with Draco. She was covering her friends and ex-professor as best as she could, though she couldn't see well from her point. She knew it was important; it was vital for Harry to be sure that Draco was protected. Without relaxing her attention, she was rubbing the blonde's shoulder very gently and soothingly, almost afraid to touch him, as she knew the way the entire body hurt after the Cruciatus; sometimes even the gentle air flow on the skin seemed to be enough to irritate the damaged nerves. And it was obvious to her that Draco had been tortured with that gruesome curse. But, touching him like this, she prevented him from losing the contact with reality completely. In fact, Draco felt pain as if it was somewhere in the background. Mostly he just felt cold and emptiness.

"Harry..." he whispered hoarsely and miserably. Hermione heard him even though the battle was deafening and the floor vibrated under her knees and feet. He could only hear her soothing words close to his ear, the words he could hardly distinguish.

Notwithstanding the fact that Harry and the others were outnumbered, somehow only four or five Death Eaters were notable among the others, and they seemed truly dangerous. Ron and Harry covered and supported each other, making quite a good team. It was more instinctively than consciously. And Severus had his own tactics. It looked like he entertained himself by bewildering the minds of the enemies or filling them with pain, or showing the remarkable dexterity, making them hurt and kill each other with curses that they cast at him. He didn't care that several other Death Eaters apparated there to help the others. He was ruthless and wanted to take vengeance for Draco. They had to pay; they all had to pay dearly for every drop of Draco's blood they had shed, for every second of pain they had caused, for every second of fear. He could tell that Harry wanted the same as he saw his ex-student (and a curse of his life) fighting like a mad, wounded lion. Three of them knew that Medea was the one they had to stop in the first place, because she was obviously a leader. But the woman was hiding behind the backs of the other Death Eaters so far. She even had someone under the Imperius curse to use him as a human shield. She was only attacking Harry and no one else. The Death Eaters were thinning out gradually, and soon she would be left without her cannon fodder. But she finally found Harry Potter's weak point. Oh, yes, she found it! How hadn't she come to this idea sooner? Almost easily, finding only some weak resistance, she pushed her mind into his. Suddenly Harry's mind was flooded by some torn fragments of thoughts. He became disoriented, but he knew what it meant. He felt someone else in his mind, which appeared to be unguarded, allowing the intrusion.

"Idiot, your barriers! She's a Legilimens," he heard the familiar scolding, but it seemed so distant.

_'For a legend you have quite an ordinary mind. Almost. Strong and yet, defenceless,'_ she 'said' inside of his mind. She made him vulnerable, as he couldn't pay attention to the fight anymore. But neither could she, it seemed.

_'Get the fuck out of my head!'_ Harry was 'screaming' furiously inside of his own mind, where she tried to trap him, cutting him off the reality completely. He couldn't close his mind and cast her out of it, no matter how hard he tried. He felt bitter. He could have avoided all of it, maybe even the influence that had been driving him crazy for months, if only he had really tried to master the Occlumency when he had had a chance. Even if it had been a real pain in the neck to deal with Snape, he hadn't been better himself. At worst, he could have tried to find someone else to teach him, even if there weren't really many people with such skills. But no! He'd allowed some slut to separate him and Draco, hurting his beloved so badly and robbing them of their time and happiness; he'd allowed her to almost ruin his mind... If only his mind had been trained to block any attempts to meddle into it, perhaps, he would have been able to avoid all of the misery and pain that he and Draco had endured lately. Perhaps, Ginny wouldn't have been involved in the crime by a sly woman, who had probably taken advantage of the silly girl.

_'Goodness, are you really that naive? It was __**she**__, who found me. I was just looking for an opportunity to get closer to you. She made it all so easy for me. It was just a lucky coincidence; she was so desperate, looking for someone like me; she even asked some of her friends if they knew anyone with such kind of abilities,' _the woman 'said'. Her 'voice' was hypnotising in his head, and he felt himself relaxing._ 'All I had to do was give her the address through one of them, and she ran to me sooner than I expected. Foolish girl was so in love, or, very likely, obsessed. How could I refuse to help her? I was even honest with her, so she knew about the risks; she even knew it was a crime, but that didn't stop her. She didn't want to believe that your heroic heart already belonged to someone else, so the result of my work wouldn't have been exactly what she wanted. It was so amusing to see your degradation. You were going crazy slowly. Or you would have just drunk yourself to death, eventually. It would have made a good article in the papers. How sad, it didn't work.'_ Harry half-felt that someone brought his body down on the ground. He thought that it was, most definitely, Ron, who tried to protect him. And then he heard a distant scream, and he knew it was Ron's. But Harry couldn't help his friend, no matter how hard he tried to tear himself out of the trap. He felt that Medea was repulsed, as she was looking through some of his memories. In passing she watched Harry killing her master. But Harry felt she was quite interested, looking at his memories of the horcruxes. Her 'voice' continued, nevertheless:_ 'I must confess, I was afraid to fight you, but now I see that you're nothing special. You couldn't even protect people you loved. Right now, in the middle of a fight, you're helpless, and your friends are trying to protect you. Then can it really be true that you destroyed the Dark Lord by accident? Were you just ridiculously lucky? I shouldn't have waited that long then. I'm so disappointed. But it's an honour to kill you anyway. My Lord wants me to. What reason do you have to live now? Your lover and your child are, most assuredly, already dead after all I did to them. You're not going to outlive such a misery, I can feel it...'_

_'Then I'll come back from the dead to find you! I swear, I will. It was you all the time... You ruined our lives. I'm going to kill you, bitch, no matter what it takes!'_

_'Go ahead. What are you waiting for?' _the unimpressed 'voice' replied. It was then when he gathered all his will and started to push against her mind. And, at the same time, he felt another intrusion, this time, somehow a familiar one - Snape's. Together they pushed Medea's mind out of Harry's. In addition, Snape caused her some mental damage. Harry felt it. And then he was free and aware of what was happening around. He knew it had only been seconds he had spent in his own head. He was on the ground. Ron was close to him, writhing in pain under the Cruciatus. Harry, no matter how much his head hurt, didn't have time to pity himself, he jumped to his feet and hit the one who tormented his friend with the curse. He also realised that Ron had probably taken the Cruciatus upon himself to protect Harry. Now it was his turn to defend his friend, who was trying to collect himself, sitting on the ground and trembling in pain. However, Ron quickly returned into the fight. And they were winning. One of the Death Eaters had already disapparated, and the other one followed. Only four of them remained, including Medea, who was holding her head in her hands after the damage Severus had caused. Harry stupefied the one she used as a human shield. She was unprotected now. The fight began between them one-on-one. Medea couldn't lose. Her Lord ordered her to kill Harry Potter and she couldn't fail him. Harry couldn't lose. He despised the bitch for everything she'd done to them, for everything she'd done to Draco. He didn't even know if Draco was still alive... **_The pain_** he felt was so great and deep that it threatened to consume him, but, instead, he wreaked all of it on the bitch. If she'd taken away the meaning of his life, which Draco and their baby had become, he didn't have to be cautious anymore, he had to destroy her, even if it meant losing his own life. She was agile and quick, but so was Harry. Soon she started to weaken under the fire of his green, piercing eyes and his desperate attacks. She was wounded with many kinds of curses, including Sectumsempra, and it put her on her knees. She was losing blood profusely. Harry was breathing heavily and gave himself a little break; however, he noticed that she tore the earring out of her earlobe. He realised that the earring was a portkey. She tried to disapparate! No, there was no way he would let this monster escape! He wounded her hand, and the earring fell on the ground and rolled away. When he saw her trying to pick up her wand, probably for the last desperate attack as if she was a cornered rat, he didn't let her. Growling in rage, he grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He wanted her to pay. She had to pay. He felt his magic coming out of his very being, like a part of his soul, and trying to break through her eyes. The power was devastating and murderously vindictive. At first it looked like an eye-fight he knew he just couldn't lose, but he felt that it was more than that. She had to suffer. He saw her eyes widened in shock before he felt himself pushing through those eyes. He heard the scraps of her last thoughts: _'Not just a young man... Underestimated...'_ The unbelievable agony lasted only a second. And then her mind broke down. At first he didn't know what he'd done, but soon he realised that he'd just shattered her mind, like a glass under the great pressure, breaking through all of her exceptionally strong barriers. He did it wandlessly and wordlessly, just directing his power straight into her mind. And he also knew that she was now as good as a vegetable. The one, who'd made Draco and him suffer so much, was just a drooling nonentity now. Maybe Snape, who had caused her some damage, while she'd been in Harry's mind, weakened her. Harry didn't know. She kept sitting on the floor in her now eternal catatonic immobility and indifference. Two of the Death Eaters escaped. One of them was seriously injured by Snape. Many other were immobilised or unconscious, some were dead. Wasting no time, Harry and his companions moved into the chamber to Draco. Medea had been wrong, Draco was alive. Ron sat down on the floor in the middle of the chamber and tried to recover his breath. At the same time he was cautious and held his wand in his hand, in case someone would apparate and try to attack again. Hermione hurried to him, leaving Draco under the care of Harry and their ex-professor.

When Draco saw Harry and Severus kneeling next to him with his hazy eyes, he sat up with great efforts and pain. Severus was about to say that it was better for him not to move, but the violently trembling boy grabbed the man's robes in the front with his injured, but bandaged hands, as if holding on to his dear life. Seeing Draco shocked, sitting in the puddle of his own blood was more than enough to make Harry's mind swim. It was unthinkable and bloodcurdling sight.

"He's dead... He's not moving... I knew they wouldn't leave me alone... Now they've taken... everything from me... I want to go home! Please, take me home..." Draco whispered desolately, forcing out every word and clinging onto a man. He was choking on his sobs, but he was so shocked, that tears couldn't escape; his eyes were dry, though red. He didn't want anyone to see him; he wanted to hide, even if his only option now was Severus' robes. He wanted to hide and to be left alone, like a dying animal. Harry was pressing himself to the blonde's back, holding him with both arms, and weeping violently, unable to make a sound though, and feeling very much like he was sitting on the ruins of his own world, desperately holding in his arms the last that still remained. Meanwhile, Severus scanned Draco quickly.

"Draco, he's not dead. His heart is beating. But... Are these contractions?" he asked in the process of examination, trying to stay calm. Someone had to.

"I don't know... Home!" Draco cried out in the end, shuddering with his entire body. Severus' spell revealed the chain with a shackle around Draco's ankle, which wouldn't let them disapparate with him, and he removed it.

"Right, go. We'll take care of everything. Father and his men are going to be here anytime soon," Ron assured. Hermione squeezed his hand with her own, weeping, as she couldn't look at the scene that was happening in front of her.

"We're going to disapparate," Severus warned Draco quietly. "Hold on to me. Deep breaths. Potter, hold him still."

The apparition was hard for Draco, irritating his aching nerves. They apparated very close to their home.

"Take him upstairs, I'm going to firecall Pomfrey," Snape commanded. Harry picked up half-conscious Draco in his arms, hardly feeling his weight. Once they entered the house, he brought the blond into the bedroom and put him down very carefully. He put his hand on Draco's belly, but, unconsciously, the blond pushed it away with his very weak, trembling hand. Madam Pomfrey and Snape entered the room very soon. The woman looked upset. Obviously, Snape had already explained her the situation.

Wasting no time, she approached Draco and looked into his eyes, lifting his eyelids with her fingertips, and then started to cast the scanning spells. She examined him thoroughly to reveal even the slightest damage. When she finished with the scanning and healing spells, she gave him some potions, forcing him to swallow them with the help of the spell. She tended all his wounds carefully. Together she and Harry changed his clothes into pyjamas, after she'd cleaned his body. And, in the end, they turned him on his side and covered him with the warm blanket.

"He's back... The Dark Lord is back..." he moaned weakly, without opening his eyes. His very pale and purplish lips hardly moved as he tried to say something else, but soon gave up. Harry and Severus exchanged glances. Harry squeezed the blonde's hand very gently. It was cold, so he pulled the blanket up to Draco's neck, hiding both cold hands under it.

"Let him rest and keep him warm," Pomfrey said. Three of them left the room.

"So?" Severus asked her. She sighed.

"Shock, mild heart attack... Right now he's also experiencing the aftermaths of the blood loss and Cruciatus. There's nerve damage. Fortunately, there's no threat to his life now, but I have to watch him closely, at the very least, for a week. He'll be sleeping for some time, he needs it."

"And the baby?" Harry asked quietly, almost interrupting her.

"The damage is minor. In fact, Draco has taken most of the damage. Baby's nervous system has, thankfully, withstood the torture, and there's no brain damage. But, of course, it was an ordeal for him, too. They both need to be checked all the time to prevent any possible complications."

"Draco had contractions," Severus said.

"False contractions," she corrected. "I subdued them, just in case. They were certainly induced by Cruciatus, but he wasn't in labour, at any rate. I'll be back in two hours to see how he responds to healing and to give him some more potions. Firecall me anytime, in case you notice anything suspicious in his state."

"Thank you," Harry whispered and returned to the bedroom. He took a shower quickly and changed his clothes, doing everything automatically. Then he lay behind Draco's back and wrapped his arms around him carefully. The blond was sleeping, but Harry couldn't stop concentrating on his every breath, so afraid to lose him that the painful anxiety inside seemed to never let him go. It was too much...

* * *

><p>Draco had been sleeping for more than twelve hours already. At first his sleep had been deep and calm, but then, time and again, he was writhing slightly or calling his mother quietly, but heartbrokenly in his sleep. It saddened Harry to no end. Every time it was happening, he was caressing his hair soothingly or taking Draco's hand in his and pressed it against the blonde's belly, so Draco could feel the baby, even if he could feel him inside anyway, so Harry wasn't quite sure why he was doing it. Sometimes Draco was shivering slightly or his muscles tensed uncontrollably. Madam Pomfrey, who'd visited several times already, said that it was typical after what he'd endured.<p>

When, once again, sleeping Draco called his mum, Harry, who hadn't slept and eaten for a long time in addition, finally broke down and sobbed into the pillow for hours.

* * *

><p>The awakening was slow; it took time to open his eyes and see where he was. He was home, in his bed... Harry's arms were holding him tightly and possessively, making it almost impossible to move. In fact, he was literally wrapped up in Harry. When Draco tried to turn to face him, the arms tightened even more. Still, he managed to turn, even if it caused him pain to move. He scrutinised his sleeping lover's red, swollen eyelids and his still wet eyelashes. Suddenly the eyes, that had shed so many tears not long ago, opened, and they looked startled at first. But then Harry sighed. He couldn't even pay attention that his arm, that was under the blond, had fallen asleep.<p>

"Draco..." he whispered. The blond couldn't answer. Instead, he buried his face in Harry's neck. It was a relief to feel baby's movement inside. Severus had been right, saying that the child was alive. He hadn't said it only to comfort Draco with lies. His son had survived... Draco didn't want to think about what had happened; he wasn't ready. His mind was still a little dim, his body was aching, so he decided that it was best to let himself rest and save all questions and concerns for later, for his own and baby's good. Harry's warmth and closeness made him fall asleep again.

* * *

><p>Madam Pomfrey visited several times a day to examine and heal Draco, who was apathetic and suffered from neuralgia silently, or just asleep.<p>

"You may feel a little strange," she told him once. She had already been there in the room as he awoke. Indeed, something felt wrong about his child. "I turned your baby for the time, to unburden your lungs and ribs. He lies in a sideways position; horizontally, in other words. Don't worry about it; I'll be able to turn him head down. Do you feel comfortable like this?"

"More or less..." he replied. Every time she visited, he was afraid that she would recommend cutting the baby out from him, as he was too weak to carry him any longer. But she never told anything like that. Instead, she did her best to heal him, to make it possible for him to bear at full term. It was comforting, no matter what.

Both Draco and Harry had withdrawn into themselves after what had happened. In a few days, however, it became better. Draco was even eating almost normally, even if he had to force himself. But Harry couldn't calm down, never forgetting that the tragedy had happened because of him. It tormented him every day, every time he was looking at Draco. He and their baby had survived, but it had been a close call. Harry had never wanted anyone to get involved in his troubles, but people he loved always suffered because of him. He couldn't keep silence about it any longer. Draco seemed to feel and look better, so Harry decided to tell him what he'd been holding back for a week.

"You were right. You were right, Draco," he said quietly when he thought, he'd picked the right moment. "And I was stubborn. All I wanted was to be with you, to be happy, to make you happy, to have a family. And look what..." he sounded like he choked on his words, so he fell silent for a few moments. "I was selfish and... self-asserted when I thought that I could protect you. What a high-flown statement... I failed you. I thought I was free of the curse, but it seems I'll never be free from another one..."

"Harry, no..."

"It's my curse: people I love always suffer... or die." Harry tried to keep his voice cold. "I can't let it happen to you. Not to you... Maybe it would be better for you if I left," he said, still quietly, and lowered his eyes in sorrow.

"What? !" Draco exclaimed with panic, fear and anger in his eyes. The hurt was almost physical, though it could still have been the aftermaths of the damage.

"No, no! Listen to me. Please. I don't know how to live without you, but putting your life in danger is worse. We don't know how many 'medeas' are still out there. I don't know... It's both selfish to leave and to stay. So... I leave it up to you. I want you to do what is best for you and for the baby." A tear ran down his face.

"Fuck you, Harry!" the blond fired up, nearly crying. "You seemed to be so determined to be with me and now you're going to leave me at the very first difficulties! I won't let you treat me like this, even if the Dark Lord is still alive! You can't just come back whenever you want and then just leave again! I won't let you..."

"Tell me, what would **_you_** do if you were me?" Harry asked, realising that he'd just been cruel. He didn't want to make Draco end up with the breakdown. He lost heart.

"I would probably leave," Draco nodded, trembling as he tried to take his emotions under control. He knew that if Harry left him again, he'd simply go mad with grief. "Now tell me, would **_you_** let me go in that case; if **_you_** were me?"

"Never..."

"Then stop doing this to me; I would very much appreciate that. Or leave right now if this is what you want! Leave! Run! But I want you to know that if you leave, you will never see us again. I won't allow this! This time, be sure of that, Harry!" the blond warned with the eyes full of tears. Was everything falling apart again? Had their relationship been that weak and fragile? Harry buried his face into Draco's thighs, covered with blanket, and sobbed. He knew he had no right to break now. He knew that Draco needed him to be strong now; he was supposed to be strong, but he couldn't. _'I ruin everything...'_

It got better when he'd had a good cry and Draco's soothing hand on the back of his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to be harsh on you again," he said quietly when he was already calm.

"Don't be sorry. Just think before you say something like that next time," Draco sighed. Harry lay down under the blanket next to his love and they were just lying there in each other's arms.

"And Harry..." The blond said suddenly with calm voice.

"Huh?"

"Tomorrow tell Pomfrey about all the injuries you have, including that huge burn on your arm. Do it or I will; just to embarrass you."

"Oh... All right. It's... it's okay, it's healing already. You don't have to worry about it."

"I saw it when you were changing your clothes today, and it looks horrendous. You haven't taken care of it at all. I think it amounts to hurting yourself intentionally."

"It's not like that. I... I promise I'll take care about it."

"I hope so..."

* * *

><p>In the morning Harry woke up with his arm around the blonde's tummy, and the first thing he felt was baby's kicking.<p>

"Good morning you too, little one," Harry smiled sleepily. He started to rub the side of the belly soothingly to make the baby stop his antics and let Draco sleep a little more. But the frolic didn't stop. Harry pulled the blanket down and Draco's nightshirt up carefully. At first he froze when he saw a bulge on the side of the belly. The bulge moved a little, then disappeared, but then it appeared again. Baby's foot... He'd never seen anything like this before, but now he could; probably, because Pomfrey had changed the baby's position. Harry knew that physically Draco felt much better like this, because the baby wasn't tormenting his ribs and lungs anymore with his little legs, but, on the other hand, the blond felt that it wasn't right and hoped that Pomfrey would turn the baby in the right position soon. Harry touched the foot with his fingers and it retreated, but then appeared again. Embracing Draco, he was kissing or just touching the bulge. It seemed all his purport of existence was here, in this bed. Draco was baby's home; his sanctuary, where the little one was safe (if Draco was safe), warm and loved. He was the child's source of everything he needed to live. Draco was the baby's entire world! Sometimes Harry had even been a tiny bit jealous because of their closeness, but now he really felt that he was a part of it. It was a miracle for him that he could touch his son's feet (and the baby could obviously feel it, too) through Draco's skin and muscles. He was playing with his son, who wasn't even born yet; it felt very odd and exciting. But then Draco mumbled something in his sleep, displeased that Harry was poking his side and the baby was trying to escape through that side, so he slowly turned on his other one. The baby calmed down quickly. Probably he just wanted Draco to change his position, feeling uncomfortable.

"Now I see what it was all about," Harry whispered and touched the belly with his lips.

When there was a knocking at the door of the bedroom, Draco woke up. Harry opened the door and was a little surprised to see Ron and Snape.

"Hi, Harry. We have to talk," the redhead said.

"What is it?" Draco asked out of the room, still in bed. He didn't want to remain uninformed.

"All right. Draco deserves to hear it, too," Snape sighed. They all entered the room.

"We have some news about Medea Levington," Ron said. Draco shivered a little, hearing the name. Instinctively he pulled up the blanket a little, like a child, who'd just been told that there was a monster under his bed. "My dad is in charge with this case. Well, we found out that she wasn't just crazy. Voldemort..." The name still sounded uncomfortable. "Influenced her mind somehow. It's interesting and strange, because she was a Legilimens and Occlumens, and she was very gifted in everything about protecting, reading or ruining someone's mind."

"In other words," Snape intervened. "The Dark Lord's magic damaged her mentally and she just thought up what was missing. Her 'Lord' was just a product of her twisted mind. Levington even thought she could feel her Dark Mark; and she heard voices, saw visions. However, it was all in her head. And she also wasn't a horcrux," he assured his godson, who, as he knew, hadn't been sure about all of it, therefore concerned. "In order to prevent the Aurors from bothering you, I gained a permission of Mr Weasley Senior to correct some of her damaged memories. I destroyed everything she knew about you or your condition."

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely. "So.., there's no Dark Lord? Are you sure?" he asked. Last night he'd seen a dream about someone, knocking at the front door of their home. Draco had appeared to be alone in the entire house. The knocking had been heard throughout it; everywhere. The blond had opened the door once he'd reached it, and he'd seen the Dark Lord on the threshold. The freak had asked Draco to come with him wordlessly, just calling him with the gesture of his hand. And Draco had only been shaking his head in dread.

"We are sure," Ron answered. "And she won't do anything to you, Harry or anybody else. She's more like a plant now than a human."

"Why?" the blond asked.

"I'll tell you later," Harry promised.

"What kind of plant: something like a devil's snare or like a... camomile?" Draco asked him quietly, while Ron and Severus told something to each other on the subject of the case. Harry chuckled.

"What?" Ron asked him, interrupting his conversation with Snape.

"Nothing," Harry replied and smiled at his beloved.

This day Severus removed the bandages from Draco's hands and forearms and it was the first time he did it while his godson was awake. Usually he preferred not to cause Draco any unnecessary distress, if it was avoidable, but he and Pomfrey had already stopped giving him calming and sleeping potions, so the man wouldn't be able to make his actions go unnoticed anyway. All the more so, the injuries were closing up quite well; they were still hurting a little, tender and they felt tightened, as well as the one across his jaw line. But they had already started to itch, and Severus warned the boy not to scratch them. He promised to make scars as undistinguished as possible. For now he just tended the injuries, as he'd usually done lately, applying the healing salve, which also lessened the itching, to Draco's relief. In the end, the man bandaged his arms again. Before leaving, he received a playful tug at his sleeve and shook his head with feign reproach. Draco had been doing it sometimes... since the second up to the fifth year of his life, to attract the man's attention to his grey eyes, which had been looking up at him almost demandingly, and then to ask or say something, when he'd been sure that the man had been listening to him very carefully; or to persuade him to lift him up in his arms. It seemed Draco hadn't forgotten about it. The youth gave the older wizard a small smile to confirm that, indeed, he hadn't.

Draco's mood became even better, appreciably, when he got Goyle's letter. As promised, there were plenty of wedding pictures, and his friend looked a little too serious, but the letter itself consisted of only one sentence:

_'Hello, Draco,_

_The wedding cake was the only fun.'_

Draco laughed so hard that he was afraid that his baby would surely come out of his side. It was a happy sound and Harry smiled when he heard it coming out of their bedroom, while he was taking a bath.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, Draco was holding quite well after what had happened. He knew that his anguish upset Harry and worried Severus as well. Only once, when no one else saw him, Draco cried, thinking what he would have done if his baby had really died. He didn't even care if he himself wasn't quite all right; at least, Pomfrey insisted that he had to stay in bed most of the time and she couldn't have said it without reason. But he followed her recommendation, allowing Harry, Severus and Florie to take care of him. He also had a fear of leaving the house, especially frightening was the thought of crossing the wards that protected it, but, since he wasn't really allowed to stay on foot more than it was <strong><em>very<em>** necessary, it didn't disturb him too much so far. Knowing about his fear, somehow, and trying to make his mood better, Florie made him a present; it was a crystal sphere, she'd found in the attic, which allowed seeing the house and its surroundings in miniature in real time, so he could see everything and everyone around the house, even at some distance from the wards. She, actually, succeeded to make him smile. The thing was beautiful and he also could see when Harry was coming back home, when he wasn't using floo to get home, of course. He could also see Longbottom, working in the garden, or Severus when the man was taking breaks and went out to have some air.

At first Harry had been cancelling his Auror training, but then he'd started to visit the most important lessons, still too worried to leave Draco. Harry was deeply concerned about him, especially when the blond was calling his mother in his sleep. He knew that it didn't let Draco go, and he still suffered about the way he'd lost Narcissa. He'd even wept once in his sleep. Perhaps, it was just happening in the light of recent events. The wound was deep and the time didn't seem even to start healing it. Harry could imagine what it was like to see the mother's murder, the death of the closest person; but to spend days near her dead body, delirious with grief, as it had happened to Draco... It was unthinkably cruel. Harry had been too little when his mother had died to be able to remember it. And his parents, at least, had been buried properly. Draco's mum hadn't even been found.

Very opportunely he discovered a handkerchief in his pocket with the old stains of Draco's blood, a handkerchief that Harry had taken away from Snape and put it into his pocket without thinking. An idea crossed his mind, but he wasn't sure if it was really a good time for it. Nevertheless, he knew it was the right thing to do. To encourage himself, he took one of the pictures from Draco's bedside table. Baby Draco was in Narcissa's arms, holding the strand of her hair in his very small, delicate hand... The blond always had her pictures close. Harry put the photograph back. It was time to do something, at last.

* * *

><p>Someone was firecalling, and Draco tore himself away from his late breakfast. At first he had no doubts that it was Harry (who else could firecall, using the fireplace in Draco's sitting room?), so, as quickly as he could, he approached the fireplace with his mouth still full, - the thing he hardly ever allowed himself with his love to the proper table manners. But when he reached the fireplace and answered, he saw Granger's face.<p>

"Oh... Draco. Good afternoon. Could you let me in?" she asked. He nodded; his mouth was still too busy with chewing to answer to her greetings properly. She flooed in several seconds later when he returned at the table. He took a sip of tea to wash the food down.

"How do you feel?" she asked, finding him looking tired.

"Fine," he shrugged. "If I'm sitting or, even better, lying," he added, sighing. He showed her to the armchair in front of him, inviting her to sit down, which she did, nodding gratefully.

"Sorry for intruding," she said, feeling a little uncomfortable, as she didn't know how he felt about her presence in his home. "I just wanted to talk to Harry."

"I thought he was having lessons with your fiancé. Didn't you know?"

"No, their today's lessons start in two hours."

"Interesting," Draco narrowed his eyes, looking puzzled. Had Harry lied to him when he'd said he was going to study, leaving early this morning? Where was he then? He frowned a little, thoughtful and confused, even though he tried to keep a blank expression on his face, but Hermione quickly realised that she'd probably given Harry away somehow and made Draco worry in addition.

"Oh... Today's Thursday, isn't it?" she gasped a little, feigning a sudden realisation of something and making up a story on the way. He nodded, without looking at her. "I forgot he told me that he was going to take some additional lessons, because he missed two weeks or so. He just wants to catch up with the others. The Auror training is pretty hard," she shrugged, covertly studying Draco's expression to see if he believed her 'noble lie'. He seemingly relaxed, to her relief. She wondered where Harry really was and hoped that her lies wouldn't turn out badly. The blond seemed to be satisfied with her explanation and returned to his breakfast, which consisted of two toasts with a thin layer of honey, yoghurt in a small cut-glass bowl, sliced fruits and peppermint tea.

"Tea? Coffee? Or anything else?" he offered almost absentmindedly, not noticing that she already intended to get up, say goodbye and leave. He didn't want to be inhospitable towards Harry's friends, especially towards those that had taken part in his rescue.

"Just tea, please," she replied, changing her mind about leaving so soon. Florie quickly appeared to serve her young master's guest.

Hermione took a sip of a wonderful-smelling tea and smiled a little, looking at Draco's belly. He didn't seem to notice, eating unhurriedly.

"Harry seems to be thrilled about the idea of having son. Though... to be honest, I think he would've been just as happy about a baby daughter," Hermione finally said. When she'd seen Draco broken, shocked, covered in blood and assured that their baby had died, she'd thought that Harry's happiness had ended (too soon after it had begun) and felt heartbroken for both of them. She was relieved to see that Draco looked mostly fine, aside from looking tired. "And what's your opinion?" she asked curiously.

"Does my opinion matter? He's a boy," Draco replied, softly looking down at his belly.

"Did you think about it when you still didn't know about your baby's gender?"

"No, not really. I didn't really care." he shrugged. But then he added: "I just think... it would be harder to raise a daughter. I suppose there are things a girl wouldn't feel comfortable to share with her father and... since there'd be no woman to talk to, she'd probably feel somehow..."

"Awkward? Deprived of something?"

"Yes."

"Umm... Not necessarily; it depends on her relationship with her father. But I think I can see your point," Hermione nodded. "So... When is the supposed date of baby's birth? Harry only says 'soon' and nothing else."

"Pomfrey thinks it's going to happen any day between the fifteenth and twenty-fifth of October."

"Soon, indeed," she said with a small smile. She noted to herself that it was already the twenty-ninth of September.

When Draco finished his breakfast, he got up with an effort to withdraw to his bedroom.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to lie down again," he sighed.

"Of course," Hermione said understandingly, placing an empty cup on a table. "I'll firecall Harry in the evening." And with this she flooed home.

* * *

><p>"How do you feel today?" Harry asked him the very next day, seeing that Draco seemed to be more or less all right, and didn't look as tired as usually.<p>

"Better," Draco replied. He took Harry's hands in his and pressed them to the sides of his own face. The brunet kissed his lover's lips, giving himself a small pause before he started to speak again:

"I have something for you."

"A present?" the blond livened up a little.

"Not quite. No... I don't want to put it like that. No," Harry shook his head.

"I'm intrigued."

"I ordered a carriage. Madam Pomfrey said it wouldn't be good for you to apparate, but she allowed me to take you to the short trip. It won't take long; just several hours."

"But where are we going?"

"You'll see. Just tell me when you're ready."

"All right, give me thirty minutes," Draco sighed, realising that there was no way he could make Harry tell him what was going on. Just in case, he put on one of his best suits, which, like most of his clothes, had been altered to a size of his pregnant body, more or less. He put on a long, warm cloak over the suit.

Leaving the house was an ordeal for Draco. He felt fear, once he stepped over the threshold. But Harry was there with him, holding his hand and gently rubbing it between his own palms soothingly. Near the house Draco saw a covered carriage, drawn by two... thestrals. It was the first time he was seeing the winged, skeletal horses with his own eyes, even if he'd been travelling in carriages hundreds of times when he was younger. He knew that only those, who'd seen death, could see thestrals, and, Merlin knew, Draco had seen death many times and far too close to remain unscarred. Harry traced the look of Draco's eyes and rubbed his hand again. He'd always been able to see those creatures, since the first time he'd seen them on the way to Hogwarts. He helped Draco to get into the carriage. The blond sat down, wrapping himself up in his cloak to hide his belly, even if the carriage was covered.

Soon they set out and the trip was actually pleasant. Both youths were looking at the forest, fields and houses in the distance. It seemed very peaceful, so even Draco relaxed very soon. He even dozed off for half an hour, resting his head on Harry's shoulder, as the soft rocking of the carriage made him languid.

The way took almost three hours. Draco was a little perplexed when they stopped somewhere in the middle of the cemetery. He still didn't ask anything, especially seeing that Harry was a bit confused about the way to tell Draco whatever he had in mind, so the blond just followed him, once Harry had helped him to get out of the carriage. They approached the old dark-grey stone building with large, double-wing, black, barred door.

"Blacks' family crypts? I've been here before," Draco said. Harry didn't answer. He touched the door and it opened for them right away, because Harry was an heir of Blacks. Draco would have entered just as easily if he'd been alone, since he was Blacks' descendant. Once they were inside, they went downstairs. Harry lighted up all the braziers on the stone walls with the single move of his wand. There were two floors of the crypt, but they moved to the lower floor and turned to the left. For almost ten minutes they were walking past burial vaults of Draco's many ancestors. But Harry led Draco to one particular vault, and stopped, once they reached it. There was a massive marble coffin with the beautiful ornament on its sides. Two vases, also made of marble, beautifully decorated with amethysts and onyxes, stood on each side of the coffin and were full of fresh roses. The undying magical fire burned in the brazier, which was an elegant silver bowl and was placed on top of the coffin. And then Draco's attention was captivated by the statue of the woman near the wall right behind the head of the coffin. The woman was dressed in a long dress and her hair was loose. She was beautiful, proud, graceful; and she looked like... his mother. He lowered his gaze just to see a silver square plate on the pedestal of the statue. _'Narcissa Malfoy (née Black) 1955-1998'_. Draco gasped quietly. Harry's gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"She... Is she really here?" the blond whispered in shock.

"Yes," Harry nodded.

Together with one of his tutors and the man's friend, who specialised in such things, he had taken part in a ritual, which required blood of the closest relative of the dead one, whose body had to be found. For that purpose they used Draco's blood on a handkerchief. But Harry had decided not to make her funeral, which had taken place only a day before, known. He'd only told Snape about it. At the end of the funeral Harry had sincerely asked Narcissa's forgiveness for all their misunderstandings. She'd, in fact, only cared about her family. Who could have blamed her for that? He'd also remembered and was ashamed of himself that he'd been a little jealous, when he was younger, seeing that Draco had truly been loved and protected by his mother, - something that Harry had never had in his conscious life, because his mother had sacrificed herself when he was too young. He'd asked forgiveness for that, too, and promised Narcissa to take care of her son and grandson as best as he could.

Funeral was something too depressing, especially in this case as they had only found her remains - bones, gnawed by animals (he wasn't sure he would ever be able to tell Draco about it, even if the blond, most definitely, suspected something like that), though they'd collected every single part that remained of her. That was the reason he hadn't told Draco about it sooner, even if he still worried and wondered if that had been the right thing to do - not to let Draco present at his mum's funeral. He also knew that he'd probably had to wait with that; the day of birth of their baby was approaching, and he didn't want to give Draco any reason to suffer, especially after what had happened not long ago; but, perhaps, it would give Draco some peace and help him, at least, to start to overcome his loss now that he had a place to visit, to revere her memory and mourn properly.

"I didn't want to upset you," he said, seeing his love's eyes full of tears.

"No... It's... It's important to me. She deserves it, she really does," the blond whispered, looking at Harry with the eternal gratitude in his eyes. A tear escaped. Tears were inevitable, Harry had known it, but it seemed to him that, in some way, it was a tear of relief. Draco's mother could finally rest in peace.

"I know. I know, Draco," Harry said and held him in his arms.

And then he left Draco alone in his mum's burial vault for some time and went to visit Sirius'. The man's body wasn't there in the coffin, there was no body left at all, of course, but he deserved to have, at least, a memorial.

"Hi, Padfoot. It's been a long. Sorry..." Harry said. He stayed there for some time, thinking about his godfather and hoping that the man could feel that he was remembered.

He returned to Draco. The blond was kneeling in front of Narcissa's coffin, pressing his cheek to it. He wasn't crying, but he looked thoughtful. And then he turned his face to Harry.

"Are you tired?" the brunet asked.

"A little," Draco nodded.

"Let's go home," Harry said, helping Draco to get up.

Nothing was said on the way home, but they were holding hands and never let go until they were in the bedroom. Harry helped Draco to undress; they took a bath, ate their dinner and soon were in bed. Harry decided to lie down, too, even though it was only an early evening.

"Thank you," Draco murmured softly and drowsily, falling asleep.

"...Love you," Harry whispered and kissed the soft lips, which returned the kiss sleepily. Then he kissed the side Draco's round tummy; precisely, the place, where baby's head supposedly was.

Draco's sleep was finally peaceful, and now Harry knew that he'd really done the right thing. He'd finally done something very worthy for his beloved one, not just uselessly dreamed about the way he could just 'take away' Draco's pain and sorrow, which was literally sewed into his soul. He couldn't sleep, thinking about it and looking at his sleeping love, gently caressing the blond hair with his fingers.


	22. 21 Through the pain

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

lostsouloftheunderworld (Thanks so much! Glad you liked :). Lucky! I guess my evil minions are lazy as hell; why else I've been oversleeping so often, lately ;)?), Sun (Thanks a lot :)!), Lilyth (Indeed, he's a hero. He just had to remind it to some people ;). Thanks!), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Thank you! Enjoy! :) ), Serpent Charmer (I thought so, too. Thanks!), MDarKspIrIt (I won't keep you waiting :). Thank you!), fancine (Thanks!), Aquarinus (Glad you liked her and her end! You're very attentive :). Thanks!), Arcania (Thank you! The next one is even longer ;) ).

* * *

><p><em><strong>21. Through the pain<strong>_

It was his day off and Harry wasn't in hurry to wake up, but when he did, it was upsetting to find that he was alone in bed, because he'd already got used to wake up holding Draco in his arms. Or the very first thing to do in the morning was to reach out his hands blindly to the warmth next to him and embrace that warmth sleepily; gently, not to disturb the lover's sleep. Often he woke up with a start even if he felt Draco just shifting in his sleep, let alone getting up. But this time he hadn't. It was almost an afternoon and Harry sighed at the realisation that he'd slept so long instead of spending more time with Draco in his day off. On the other hand, he felt well-rested and content.

After taking a shower he, following the soft sounds of music, found Draco on the balcony of the sitting room where Draco often sat at the small table in the antique rocking chair made from fine, dark wood. He wasn't allowed to spend much time on foot and he still didn't feel secure outside the house, so sitting on the balcony was his only really comfortable option to get some fresh air, which he enjoyed very much, especially among all these ornamental plants in the ornate, stone flowerpots.

The blond hadn't noticed him yet, so Harry was just standing at the opened balcony doors, looking at him. Draco was sitting with his back almost turned to him. There was a cup of coffee on the table and a beautiful musical box, which was currently opened. It was full of small musical instruments, such as: cello, piano, harp, violin, little bells and flute. They all were transparent as if they were ghosts of those instruments, if such thing was possible. Despite their size, they sounded like actual instruments. At the moment only the piano played the wonderful music; gentle and relaxing. And Draco looked relaxed. Then Harry saw him smiling slightly and pressing a hand to his tummy.

"Enjoying the music, too, aren't you?" the blond said softly, obviously speaking to their baby, but Harry heard him, even through the said music, and he felt a happy beating inside his chest. He didn't dare to speak and make Draco aware of his presence; he felt quite voyeuristic and only wanted to enjoy the sight without interfering. He certainly didn't require a reminder of how much he was in love, but right now he felt utterly and overwhelmingly aware of this fact.

There were people in his life that, he thought, were colourful and sunny, like summer. Most Weasleys were like that, a few of his former classmates were like that. But Draco was always a flawless picture of a beautiful melancholy when he was relaxed like this. No wonder he loved autumn, - it was a perfect background for him, especially when the colour of the sky almost matched the colour of his eyes. Harry closed his own eyes for a few seconds and opened them again just to find that right in front of him there was the same picture of the one he wanted to spend his life with. He felt a lovesick, giddy longing that made his heart flutter sweetly. Draco was his... Sometimes he still couldn't believe that they were together after all and he could just allow himself to be happy. It was a pity that he didn't have his magical camera at his hand right now to take another picture of his love, to depict this moment. Lately he'd taken several pictures of him or both of them together. Draco wasn't particularly eager to be a part of it, thinking that he wasn't looking good, but Harry disagreed and had almost convinced him otherwise. And the photographs had turned out very nice, actually. Especially the one where Draco was asleep on the bench in the garden, when Neville, in Harry's absence, had succeeded to drag the stubborn and irritated blond out of the house, which hadn't been easy, because Draco still felt nervous outside, though it had helped a lot that he knew he was protected by the wards that surrounded the house. The drowsiness had eventually overpowered the anxiety and even the annoyance with Neville, so Draco had fallen asleep, lulled by the pacifying sight of Neville, working with the plants, and by the sound of his babbling about said plants and special ways to take care of them properly. When Harry had returned home, he'd found Draco like that, asleep on the bench, while Neville had been still working in the garden, and Harry couldn't help but take a picture.

Harry was back to reality when, still having no idea about being watched, Draco started to drink coffee and eat the deliciously looking marshmallow. When his cup was almost empty, he turned it upside down on the saucer and then looked inside the cup at the coffee grounds thoughtfully. Harry couldn't help but smile adoringly, full of tender emotions. Draco inclined his head to look from a different perspective. Harry sneaked up to him, unable to keep silence anymore.

"What do you see?" he whispered right into Draco's ear very gently, not to startle him. But he'd done it anyway. Draco flinched, gasped and lowered the cup, which had nearly slipped out of his hands.

"Harry..." he frowned.

"I'm sorry, love," Harry apologised, kissed his cheek and rubbed his tummy soothingly. "So, what do you see?" he smiled. Draco raised his eyebrow.

"I see the Grim," he said with the grave seriousness and misty voice, not unlike Trelawney, even though it was a joke. "Well... I've been caught in the act, haven't I?" he murmured almost shyly.

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded with a smirk on his face and wrapped his arms around the blonde's shoulders, still standing behind his back. "How often do you do it, I wonder?"

"You mean, the tasseomancy sessions? I don't drink much coffee, especially now in my condition; and I don't appreciate leaves in my tea, either. And I'm definitely not a fortune-teller, I assure you," Draco sighed, wishing just to let the useless topic go. The music stopped, as he closed the box.

"But do you see any particular thing in your cup?" Harry kept insisting softly. His smile only widened, however, he knew he was testing Draco's patience.

"You know, I'm under the impression that you're mocking me, which is fraught with serious consequence. No, I don't see anything, Harry, nor am I really trying to. I'm just fooling around, all right?" the blond snarled. "There's no need to make a laughing-stock of me just because you've caught me doing something untypical of me."

"I'm not making fun of you, love. Would you let me try?" the brunet asked, ignoring the angry scowl.

"It's stupid, but go ahead," Draco sighed in surrender and gave Harry his cup. The other youth took it, trying not to pay attention to the annoyance on Draco's face, which, by the way, amused Harry, as he enjoyed his own good-natured banter. He hemmed thoughtfully and knowingly, looking inside the cup. Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head at this.

"I think I can see your future," Harry declared.

"Really? I'm unspeakably intrigued," the blond mumbled.

"I can confidently tell you that everything's going to be just great. You look breathtakingly beautiful with baby in your arms. Oh... There's someone else... Some bloke with two of you, grinning like an idiot. And he thinks he's the happiest idiot in the entire world."

"You're just a charlatan," Draco sneered, turning his face to meet Harry's smiling eyes. "Though, I think, I must agree with the part about idiot," he shrugged.

"Bully," Harry blinked and smiled tenderly. "I think someone has left their sense of humour in their other pants. It's okay, it happens to the best of us," he purred softly, but teasingly. Nevertheless, he decided not to tease Draco anymore. The blond had seemed utterly irritated yesterday and in the end he'd thrown a tantrum, having even less reason than now. He'd felt very sorry about it later, and it had taken an hour or so for Harry to convince him that everything was all right and he'd had no reason to be upset.

He kissed the blonde's cheek and lips, and the kiss was very eagerly returned.

"Help me to get up, please," Draco asked. The rocking chair was an utterly comfortable piece of furniture to relax, but it was quite problematic for him to get up from it.

"Of course," Harry said. After another kiss he helped his love to stand up on his feet.

"Oh, I'm so big..." the blond complained. Harry shrugged.

"Just some more for me to love," he replied, unmoved by the whining, and kissed the pale neck. "Now be a good boy and go to bed."

They went to the bedroom and Draco very soon realised that it was exactly the place where he wanted to be right now.

"Come on... Like a nice, sweet prince you are," Harry whispered, helping his a bit tired lover to lie down comfortably.

"Nice and sweet? Are you sure you don't mistake me for some other prince?" Draco murmured softly and quietly, gladly taking the help, though.

"Well, I admit you've been a bit moody lately. I'm sure some massage will make you nicer and... more cooperative. You're always an angel after that, so now I can tell I'm definitely an expert in dealing with peevish princes," Harry smiled. Draco purred his content assent. While Harry was getting ready to give him a massage session, Draco opened his musical box, taken with him, as he placed it on the nightstand. This time there was a portly woman in an old-fashioned dress of the nineteenth century, who was sitting near the transparent harp that started to play the captivating music after the woman had cleared her throat. She was an opera singer and her voice filled the room like an intense light. Harry wondered if she was really just a magical projection or an unusually small ghost, since it was hard to imagine that something completely lifeless could produce such deep and heartfelt sounds. On the other hand, muggle quality sound systems had no life in them, too.

Draco was in the seventh heaven, enjoying the beautiful music and the touches of Harry's caring hands, which had already learned where and how exactly to rub and press to take away all the strain. The blond was so deeply content that only later he noticed that he'd left the wet spot of saliva on the pillow. This embarrassing discovery made him blush slightly. Harry only smiled at it and kept massaging his already melted beloved. Even if Pomfrey had not recommended Draco to have sex until after delivery and, of course, his subsequent recovery, since he was so exhausted and needed rest and relaxation more than anything else, Harry never deprived him of kisses, hugs and loving touches; on the contrary, he tried to give Draco every attention. Some time ago the massage had already helped to take away all the aches that had been a result of the Cruciatus. Harry also believed that not only such attention pleased Draco and made him feel better, but it was helpful for Harry himself to bond with their baby, and he often touched the blonde's belly, kissed it and even cooed at it sometimes. Harry smiled, remembering the previous day when he'd been reading aloud a randomly chosen fairy-tale with his face near the tummy and his hand pressed to it gently. Draco had fallen asleep like a log in the middle of the tale, but the baby had been still moving slightly from time to time, as if showing Harry that he'd been keeping him company in his own way.

"What?" Draco purred and smiled at him, distracting him from his thoughts.

"Nothing. I'm just happy. Happy because you feel better. And our little one's fine too, isn't he?" Harry kissed his belly, murmuring something, and Draco slightly smiled again. He caressed Harry's hair, looking into his green eyes, adoring them, as always; partly because of the boundless kindness he saw in them, but not the vulnerable type of kindness, - it was strong, caring and protective.

"It's all about the good heredity. He's strong. A fighter; just like you..." Draco said softly.

"And you," Harry added quietly, but insistently. He didn't know what helped him to restrain himself from kissing his beloved madly all over and snogging him into unconsciousness. Instead, he kissed him gently; at the same time, he kept rubbing Draco's back with his oiled hand while Draco was lying perfectly relaxed on his side.

The next day Pomfrey turned their baby head down again. First days it was very uncomfortable for Draco, as the baby was literally sitting up on his lungs, but then his womb was shifting down gradually, which made it obvious that he wasn't far from giving birth. He was now forced to go to the bathroom far too often, because the baby created an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder. Even these short, but frequent trips seemed to be exhausting; annoying, for sure. Draco felt very heavy and already '_**too**_ pregnant'. In addition, he became even quieter, and people of his household often found him thoughtful, with faraway look in his eyes. He seemed very distant at times.

Only the slight red marks remained after his injuries. True to his word, Severus was healing them to prevent scarring. The only consequence of the Cruciatus that still bothered Draco was an occasional trembling of hands and legs, or just hands, more frequently, but the potions helped, and Madam Pomfrey promised that all the symptoms of the endured torture would go away soon.

Meanwhile, Draco was often deep in his thoughts, silently wondering if he was going to be a decent parent. What if something happened that would turn him into Lucius? No, he would never be like him. He was different, he had always been different and, probably, that was the reason Lucius had never loved him (if he'd been capable of feeling love at all), - he must have seen that he'd been failing to make his son a copy of himself. Draco believed that the child could always feel if he or she was loved or not. He couldn't remember when he had started to feel that Lucius hadn't been particularly happy to have him as his son. And whilst he could push the thought away easily, his heart had never stopped feeling it. He'd been more like an heir to him, a future of a family (and had had to fit that title, which he'd failed) than his beloved son. And Draco hadn't been good enough. He had never been good enough, never met Lucius' standards, no matter how hard he'd tried. He couldn't help but remember how hateful Lucius had been, torturing him. And when Draco had cried, screamed and begged him to stop, Lucius had only got more furious as if Draco had no right even to cry, as if he hadn't deserved even this 'privilege'. He shivered and shrivelled up unwittingly as if trying to defend himself from the memories that came flooding back on him.

_"You're a disgrace! For generations our family had not seen such a wretched, miserable black sheep. Crucio!.. Who could have thought I'd be the one to beget such shame? Once the Dark Lord allows me to finish you, I'll let all the blood out of you; the blood you've disgraced! I wish I had drowned you on the first day of your pathetic life and dug your corpse into the flower bed while your bitch of a mother was asleep!.. Stop snivelling! I said shut your mouth! I'm sick of you. I swear to Merlin, I would have strangled you with your own cord if I only knew what a weak spawn you were. Crucio!.." _

_Draco was surprised by the way every venomous word hurt him, unhurriedly hissed with such cold hatred, even if he'd been expecting all those things to be voiced and had even heard similar things before, during the previous days here. But now the pain was too much and the physical torture was too much as well. Draco screamed himself into fits and then fainted from the extreme agony, but his body kept levitating in the air, as he felt his head fall back slightly, but then it fell forward and his chin almost touched his chest just before he stopped feeling. Nothing new, though..._

_"...Rennervate... Still unconscious? Open your eyes. Lift up your face. Now. Drink this."_

_"I... Hnn... Can't..." Draco's damaged voice whispered weakly._

_"I'm not asking twice. Good. Stop squirming. Swallow. This is going to shake you up, so we can continue without such ill-timed interruptions. Pathetic... The mere thought of being related to you is a humiliation. You're nothing but an embarrassing mistake. It was ridiculous of me to have plans for you. **I **planned everything, because you've never been capable of any worthwhile idea, let alone deed! I wonder how you'd managed to find a way to let the Dark Lord's army into Hogwarts. Someone must have given you the idea; now I doubt it was yours, since you're such a complete failure. Crucio!.. Useless! Worthless! You'd been handed everything on a silver platter, but despite that, you contrived to fail me and your entire family!"_

_"Father! I am... **I AM** your family! Stop... I can't... Please... Why? !" he screamed desperately, pushing his almost broken voice to the limit and hurting his damaged throat even more._

_"Should I really spell it out for you? I believe I should, because not only you regret nothing, I see you don't even comprehend the nature of your guilt with that wretched mind of yours. Well, forgive me for overestimating your weak intelligence. Now, let me think... I don't even know where to start. I suggest we start with your ungratefulness. Crucio!.. What good have you done for your family? You only enjoyed the comforts of life **I** provided you with, instead of truly joining the course of your family! It was the duty you ignored. I was working hard for the honour of my kin, while you were disgracing it. You did nothing to deserve to be a part of this family. Nothing! What efforts did you make to be the best, as you should have been? At least, at school, which had to be a given. But no... Mudbloods outstrip you, you weak coward! Crucio!.. You brought me no honour even there. Why, pray tell, would I need a spawn like this? Do you find my accusations insufficient? How about your incapability of getting rid of an old dying fool or even a muggle slut, who was sitting in front of you, tied up! Now I have to save my face because of you. Still asking me 'why' when everything is more than obvious? Crucio!.. Don't you dare faint again! Breathe. Look at me. Here... Drink more of this. I want you to be perfectly aware and conscious today, because we've only just begun, Draco. We've just begun... You know, I'm a bit tired of the monotony of the Cruciatus. I'm much more inventive than this, as you already know. Shall we proceed to something different? How about... Exta inflammatio..."_

_Soon Draco was aware of the location of almost every internal organ he had, feeling his insides painfully inflamed one by one, depending where Lucius' wand was pointing. Draco was thrashing, as he kept hovering in the air helplessly. His damaged with spell bladder couldn't hold anything, and he was sure there was blood coming out of it, too._

_As Lucius had promised, Draco was conscious; too conscious, actually. The pain was overwhelming and there was no way to escape it even for a moment. He tried to hide in his thoughts. Fear of pain had always been one of the worst of Draco's fears. In his third year when Lupin had made the students face their fears, Draco had intentionally avoided it. Later he'd wondered what shape would the boggart have taken for him, considering that his fear didn't seem to be something material. At the same time, he suspected that he would have probably seen the terrifying creature that he and Potter had seen in the Forbidden Forest, a creature that had been drinking the unicorn's blood, a creature that had been invading his nightmares for many nights during his first year in school... What a terrible irony: the very same creature that had scared him so much (though he'd had no idea who or what it really was back then) was now destroying Draco's life and his own father had sided with it, served it, destroying his own child in its name. That creature in the forest... Oh, gods, why couldn't Potter kill it then and there, once and for all? Of course, Draco knew that nothing was that simple. It was nothing but shreds of the thoughts that his damaged mind could still produce. He didn't know if it was good or bad that they didn't let him lose his sanity completely even after so many rounds of Cruciatus._

_Person who cast this spell had to mean it, had to mean to hurt the victim, he never forgot this well-known fact. That was how he knew what his father really felt. Every time the man cruciated him, it felt so intense that Draco was **very **aware that his father meant it. And he still couldn't accept it..._

_After a while he could hardly think, and nothing could distract him from the suffering his father was inflicting on him. The torture had never lasted this long before. In the end Lucius let him fall on the floor like a rag doll and abandoned the chamber, leaving his son shocked from pain, incapable of crying, screaming and moving anymore; hardly breathing. In a few minutes the mediwizard, the Dark Lord's follower as well, approached the shivering and extremely damaged boy on the floor. This time it took much more from a man than a usual healing in a rough-and-ready fashion. The man had only once had so much work with the boy; it had happened when Draco had had a heart attack, and the healer had spent almost two days looking after him and stuffing him with potions that had a lot of side effects, but had made Draco ready for the next days of torture rather quickly, not without harming him at the same time, though. His kidneys had suffered from the potion the most. And there was no doubt that the heart attacks would happen again, eventually._

_The exhaustion made Draco fall asleep, or just faint, very soon, more than half dead with shock, even before the healer had been halfway through taking care of the damage. Draco had never slept well here, it was nothing like a healthy sleep; it was restless and he'd often felt the nagging ache through it, even when he couldn't move. Through his sleep he felt tears, running to his cheekbones and temples. Often he'd been just drowsy or fully awake for some time just to look up; there were two half-moon windows in one wall right under the high ceiling. They were dirty and barred, but that didn't make it hard to see if it was night or day. He didn't know where exactly he was, but it didn't matter. He only knew that the chamber was in a basement of whatever building he was in, almost completely below the ground floor. The lowest parts of the windows must have been on the one level with the ground, though he couldn't see it, - it was too high even if he was capable of getting up. Those windows were the only thing for him to concentrate on when he was able to do it at all. He could stare at them for many hours. He had felt especially lonely when it had been sunny outside and he could hear the singing of the birds. He'd often imagined people out there: happy, carefree; talking to each other, laughing, shopping, reading, making plans for the future. It had been just perfect, colourful images of joyful everyday life of the strangers and... He'd hated them, he'd envied them, because he was here all alone, hurt, hopeless, with no way to escape. Of course, he'd known that his ideas about the world out there were an exaggeration, because there was war and there hardly were happy, unconcerned people in these desperate times. And yet, he'd looked at the one of the windows with painful longing, with fantasies of breaking out and running away or of someone saving him, because he'd known he wouldn't be able to run after all the torture he'd endured. Why, oh why didn't they let him go insane and retreat into himself just to make the pain stop; just for a while?.. He only had his stupid fantasies about the escape, but they only hurt him more. '...Potter, I don't know where I am, but I'd give a lot for you to come here and destroy this nest of madmen. Not that I have anything to give... They are all either here, or in the manor of my family. You've stopped the maniac before, even when you were too little to even remember it. Why not now? Please... Please, do something. Why... Why don't you come here and kill the villain? It's what you do, isn't it? I'm trapped here, my mother is trapped in our own house. Do something... Just something. Please, come here, even if you or one of your allies kills me to boot, I know it wouldn't matter to me soon, because... I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take it... I already can't, but they leave me no choice. But I still have a chance... Please... I imagine you leading the crowd of loyal people by your side, and the way you're breaking in here with them. I imagine the epic battle just between you and that sadistic bastard. I would've pissed myself and died from fear if I was the one to fight him; but you're not me. You'll win, of course; you always do. For Merlin's sake, stop them... Once he's dead, you may come down here to tell me that I deserved all of it and how pathetic I am. Rub it in my face, if you must... Or just tell me that it's over and I'm free. And then I'll try to pick up the pieces together with my mother. Just... Just come here sooner, all right? I didn't let them know that it was you in the Manor, sitting just in front of you, looking into your eyes. And I know you're still alive; I heard them talking about you. Or maybe... maybe you've given it up and escaped to the muggle world, because you know that the Dark Lord has too much power now, and it's already pointless to save this world. Maybe it's already conquered and there's nothing for you to fight for. I just don't know what's happening outside... Yes... Yes, I know... I'm just a delusional fool and you won't come here, no one will, so there's no hope for me...' he'd once chanted despondently and tiredly in his thoughts. He'd been just delirious; there was no other explanation for such thoughts. Was it even possible for him to have any normal ones, as he'd been lying flat on his back, too hurt to move, and looking as the day had been turning into evening behind the barred windows of his prison? Fucking half-moon windows... Sometimes they looked like the eyes of someone who was laughing; laughing at him. _

_The windows also made him aware when he should anticipate the very unwelcome visits of his torturers. Normally, they came back early in the morning or late in the evening, with a couple of exceptions when one or both of them had turned up in the middle of the day. But no matter if it was day or night, if he was sleeping, awake, or half-awake, he'd always been aware of his unenviable, dreadful situation._

_But not tonight. This time Lucius had obviously surpassed himself, because Draco was completely torn from the reality, and was unable to hear or feel through his sleep. Later, however, he thought that it could have been the mediwizard's mercy, and the man, for some reason, had taken pity on him and sedated him, which had overpowered the effect of the potion that Lucius had given Draco earlier to make him stay conscious._

_He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the quiet footsteps and then this frightening, bloodcurdling squeak of the barred door through the painful semiconsciousness. No, he wasn't ready for more pain; he was never ready, but now he felt too damaged to endure another torment. Maybe they'd decided to put him out of his misery? It took some strength to open his eyes and see Lucius slowly approaching him. The man kneeled before the rigid boy on the cold floor. Draco closed his eyes in resignation when the wand was aimed at him. But, instead of the unthinkable agony, he felt the restraints letting go of his wrists, which had been held behind his back. The magical manacles that Lucius used felt like strong, cold and bony hands, and they held the wrists firmly, though Draco couldn't see them, only felt. They were gone now. With the strange carefulness the man helped him to sit up. Draco whimpered in pain and mind-numbing fear._

_"Shhh... It's all right, Draco," his father whispered. He rubbed his son's almost unfeeling hands with his own to restore the blood flow, and pressed the aghast, aching and weak boy to his chest._

_"Father..." Draco whimpered desperately, shaking like a leaf and wondering if all of it was real, since he knew his mind wasn't all right already, despite their attempts to keep it; wondering where the catch was. In spite of himself and even feeling and knowing that something was wrong about this sudden show of sympathy, especially after such torture, Draco leaned into Lucius' embrace, also despite the pain that every touch aggravated. What if his father had changed his mind, what if he'd realised what a terrible wrongdoing he'd been inflicting on his own child? What if he'd forgiven Draco? The boy was scared of him half to death. In some sense he was afraid of him more than of the Dark Lord himself. But now there was a tiny hope and Draco clutched at it with all his heart. He was ready to forgive everything and pretend that father had never hurt him physically or emotionally, to pretend that it had been someone else who'd been responsible for Draco's pain. What if Lucius really regretted everything and was there to save his son, to free him? What if some kind, merciful gods, whose names Draco didn't know, had heard the prayers in his screams and wails of agony, and had taken pity on him, reaching out to Lucius' mind?_

_"Oh, father..." His throat still wasn't really healed after the oil, boiled by magic, had been poured into it and it was appallingly painful to produce any sound at all or even to breathe and especially swallow, as both, his oesophagus and airway, were burnt._

_"Father is here. It's all right, son," was the calm response. There was nothing weak and tearful in the man's voice, but he seemed softer than Draco had ever heard or felt him acting. He felt terribly uneasy because of it, but tried to dismiss the feeling. Rocking his trembling son slightly to soothe him in the shelter of his arms, Lucius placed his chin on Draco's head. Father's long and silken hair curtained Draco and he felt even more secure behind it._

_"Hurts..." he whispered, but tensed instantly. Father hated when Draco whined, so he was terrified and rigid, expecting Lucius' outrage. But it didn't follow._

_"I know, son, I know," the older Malfoy answered. Draco relaxed a little. Bitter tears of unexpected relief streamed down the boy's face. Father wouldn't hurt him anymore. His punishment was over. Father would save him. "Hush..." Lucius kept soothing his weeping Draco. "We'll fix everything; we'll set things right. It's not your fault... Not your fault, Draco. It's always parents to blame, not their child." _

_After some time Draco ventured to look up into his father's eyes. They were calm and almost cold, which was normal for him. Draco saw no cruelty or disdain in them, though. These eyes examined the boy's injured body. There was not much left of Draco's clothes, which was tattered after more than a week of torture and dirty, as it had been soaked in blood, urine, sweat and in some places even glued to the body with pus. It also didn't really close much of the body from sight and cold. At first it seemed the older man wanted to remove the rags, but then changed his mind, apparently. He just took off his own long and warm cloak and spread it out on the floor. He helped the wincing boy to lie down on the half of it and covered his body with the other half. Draco felt warm and he curled up in a foetal position to keep the feeling._

_"Sleep, Draco. Leave everything to me. Father knows what to do," Lucius promised, still sounding cold, and yet almost soft, and looking resolute like a proud man he was. 'Oh, thank all the gods! Thank Merlin!' Draco cried to himself with unspeakable relief and hope. Father was going to take care of him. Father was going to find the way out for Draco! Father was no longer mad. The man just left; for the first time in many days he left without causing Draco any pain, and even without casting any restraining spells. Draco buried his face in the cloak that smelled exquisitely with so familiar, utterly expensive perfume his father used. It was a good change for Draco after smelling only his own unwashed body, blood and the sickening stench of burnt skin. The untended, festering burns smelled the worst, it seemed, but Draco had almost stopped paying attention to the foul smells. Father's cloak smelled of hope. Now he could finally relax a little and wait. He hoped father wouldn't get hurt, standing up for him or whatever the man was going to do to save him._

_If he only knew what Lucius' words really meant when the man had said that it was parents to blame, not a child... If he only knew, he would have screamed his head off this very night, screamed himself into insanity, despite everything they did to prevent it._

_It was the next day when Lucius had dragged Narcissa into the chamber. At first Draco couldn't understand why the man was so rude with mother. Father had promised him to fix everything, so... why? When he finally realised what Lucius' words had meant, it was the most painful feeling of betrayal he'd ever experienced. Utterly ashamed of his own naivety, he knew he'd never felt so stupid and tricked in his entire life. But until the last moment he couldn't believe that the man would really kill her, no matter what cold and cruel words he was saying. Narcissa was crying and these were tears of helplessness, rather because she couldn't help her brutalised boy than because she was afraid of death. And then the quick curse slit her throat and Draco's world collapsed. Lucius was no longer his father, so Draco had become a complete orphan in one cruel moment. There was no more looking up at the windows, he no longer cared if it was night or day outside; no more useless fantasies about the escape, other than through the death._

_After murdering Narcissa in cold blood the man definitely decided that he'd obtained justice and was satisfied with the punishment he'd already delivered. Perhaps, he felt that the boy was torn and broken, and it was quite a sufficient punishment. Lucius had become almost indifferent and mostly silent, tormenting Draco, as he'd been ordered to keep doing it. _

_'Gods... Stop it already. Stop it...'_ Draco told himself, forbidding the flow of memories to torment him any longer. He hated to remember how cruelly and easily he'd been tricked, hated to remember how he'd eagerly helped to trick himself, searching for love where it hadn't even existed, deceiving himself, taking the desirable for reality.

He forced his heart to calm down. To distract himself, he started to rub his belly, sending all kinds of comforting and loving thoughts and feelings to his child, to assure him that he was safe and already loved very, _**very**_ much, and nothing would change it. In his thoughts he often asked his son's forgiveness for everything and promised to try his best to make him happy, protect him and try hard to be a parent his son deserved; _**not**_ the other way around, - he would never let his son think that he was unworthy of love or had to deserve it first.

Then he asked himself why he was even thinking about Lucius. Narcissa had been a good mother, a good example to follow, in his opinion. Even being restrained, she'd showed him what it meant to be a parent, what it meant to love a child, because he doubted that there had been anything or anyone in her life that she'd loved the way she'd loved him. He knew he'd be eternally grateful for her love, even if she wasn't with him anymore. Her love and support had been the only factor preserving Draco's sanity when they had been trapped in their own home, like hostages among the mad people and their inhuman leader; witnessing death, the darkest magic, blood and gore. Narcissa had been strong for her child, never letting him break, regardless of all the terror. She'd been his keeper, his guard and his silent hero. Weren't these the best qualities for a parent?

He still missed her. Her support would have been very much appreciated right now. He would've been happy to hear her advices or just the sound of her voice. Even if her only son was the one who carried her grandson and was going to give him birth, which was unusual and would have been confusing to most people, Draco knew he would have been able to count on her, no matter what. He closed his eyes in sorrow, but remembered what he'd promised in her burial vault. He'd promised her to live and try to leave behind all the things that simply had to be left behind. He'd promised her to _**let her go**_. He believed that mothers were hardly able to rest in peace, knowing that their children suffered. Somehow he knew Narcissa was in peace now. He'd promised her to be all right, to live happily with his new family. He knew there was nothing she would have wanted more than his happiness.

"Draco, love, are you okay? You just... looked so sad when I came in." Harry's voice had torn Draco away from his daydreaming. The blond didn't know how long Harry had really been there, looking at him, before he'd finally made him aware of his presence. He suspected that it had been some time. Draco blinked at him, perplexedly at first, but then completely regained the touch of reality, which wasn't bad at all.

"I'm fine, Harry. I was just thinking."

And he was thinking a lot, often distancing himself even from Harry. He needed some time alone. What harm would it do?

But one day he was unusually talkative. Dozens of times, it seemed, he told Harry how much he loved and cherished him, wanting nothing more than to hear the same in return as many times as possible. Harry even took a day off from his training. Almost all day long Draco sought comfort in the brunet's arms and received it, feeling warm and content every time he was embraced. He unquestioningly took all the help and care.

They finally talked about what had happened when Draco had been abducted by Medea Levington and her henchmen. Harry had known that Draco would unburden his heart, eventually, but the dark-haired youth had never pushed the subject, knowing that his lover had had to deal with it in his head first. Now that Draco was ready to tell how he'd felt, Harry was as supportive as he could be.

The blond also talked to Severus one-to-one and thanked a vaguely surprised man for everything he'd ever done for him. Being on the verge of tears several times, he named most of those things, which wasn't a small list. Severus patiently listened to his dear godchild; it occurred to him that the boy really wanted to let out all these thoughts he'd kept inside, so he just let it happen. Draco wondered where he would have been now if the man hadn't taken care of him. He thought that he would have been dead undoubtedly. Even if Severus had only saved him from captivity, but hadn't taken care of him after that, Draco would have been definitely destroyed by the world that hated him; if not by the common people than by the Ministry employees. He also asked if Severus somehow knew if Narcissa had felt and looked... odd during the last month of her pregnancy. Severus said that he had no idea, as he hadn't been in the Manor often; he only remembered that the last month Narcissa had mostly spent in her rooms; as far as he knew, anyway. His prince was seemingly content with this answer. The boy had probably just wanted to make sure that his recent tendency to seclusion, which was a bit too much even for him, was normal. This day was an exception, anyway.

Draco was even nice to Longbottom this day and, having tea with him, asked about his parents' condition with interest. Neville informed him of the small changes in their state, - they looked more... focused, and somehow something in their eyes changed every time he was talking to them. Even if he often had to remind them that he was their son, he saw a small evidence of recognition in their hazy eyes whenever they looked at him. His mother's reaction was clearer than father's, but still there was some progress in the man's healing, too. Neville was happy to see any, even the slightest improvement. And even if it was taking a lot of time, he was happy that they had a chance, and he wasn't about to give up; on the contrary, he put his hopes and efforts into the whole idea, praying all the gods that some people who helped, and especially Snape, wouldn't give it up, too.

In the end Draco was talking to Florie, while having his supper and a chocolate cake that she'd made to pamper him, and asked her about her previous masters that had lived in this house before. He avidly listened to her long story.

Everyone was puzzled by Draco's strange mood, including Draco himself, especially given that he had been so quiet lately. But later in the evening something had changed again and he started to sob quietly, even though he couldn't find a decent reason for his own tears and seemingly inconsolable distress. Failing to find a reason, too, no matter how many times he asked what had happened and how he could help, Harry never left him alone, soothed him with words and touches, rocking him softly, as Draco was sitting on his lap, until the blond and the baby inside of him were asleep.

The very next day Draco checked the nursery pedantically and scrupulously to make sure that everything was _**perfect**_, and he even looked through all baby's clothes, very carefully folding it again after scrutinising it. He wanted only the best things for his little one, but all of them looked good; it was a good-quality, warm and soft clothes, so there was nothing he could cavil at. Something had got into him when he was holding one of the baby's cotton light loose jackets in his hands. It was so little and soft. He imagined putting it on his baby, who, most likely, would be small enough for this thing to fit him. Moved by the thought, Draco pressed it to his chest and wept quietly, rocking back and forth, as he was sitting on the floor. Fortunately, it stopped quite soon and he was glad that no one had seen it.

He took one of the children's books and opened it on the random page. Two white butterflies immediately flew up from the pages and fluttered above them. They looked very realistic and meant to shine in the dark. The flowers that looked just as realistic, but were just a moving, magical picture, were rocking in the imaginary wind, and the gilded letters of the text were written just above them; it was a short children's poem about fields of flowers. Draco smiled and closed the book after reading the poem aloud. Both butterflies disappeared between the pages.

He wondered if his child had enough things, but, frankly, it was more than enough; he'd made sure of it earlier. Seeing the way he was fussing over all those things, Florie presented him with baby's booties that she had bounded herself, using the dark-blue wool, and she'd also enchanted them to keep the baby's feet warm. Draco smiled as he found the work not only beautiful, but also very useful. At the same time, he felt that he was about to start crying again, touched by the kind attention. _'Oh, for fucks sake! Crying over the clothes now, aren't we? What, in the Merlin's name is wrong with you?'_ he scolded himself and didn't allow the tears to escape again this time.

He put all the things in the nursery in order, almost ignoring the elf's whining, as she tried to persuade him to have some rest and just tell her what he wanted to do, or probably change, so _**she**_ could do it instead. Soon he became very tired and distant again. His heart hurt, his hands shook slightly, so he went to the bedroom, took his potions and lay down, deciding to spend the rest of the day in bed.

He didn't like what was happening to him, because he felt very vulnerable and sometimes very unhappy. When no one was around, he felt abandoned, unwanted and betrayed. But when they were paying attention to him, he was irritated, absolutely sure that they pitied him (even Severus, surprisingly), so he tried to escape the excessive attention (when he found it excessive, anyway, even if it wasn't like that at all) and... felt abandoned again. He would have swaggered away from their 'pity' with his nose high in the air... if he could actually swagger; but he was only capable of slow, ungraceful waddling now, quite sure that he looked ridiculous. He felt as heavy and clumsy as never in his life before. He didn't even allow himself to think about going down on the first floor without someone looking after him, assured that he would certainly end up at the bottom of the stairs with broken neck. He only went there for a dinner and sometimes lunch, accompanied by Severus or Harry, if he was home, and Florie. What of the other occasions, - since he didn't want to burden anyone by asking for anything, as they couldn't guess the wishes of the sullen, contemplative youth, he spent almost all of his time on the second floor.

Harry owled him almost every working day when he was away on the training. He wrote him about some remarkable things during his studies or just made Draco know that he missed him. One day, when Snowflake arrived, instead of a letter, she delivered a single white rose, which she dropped on the table in front of Draco. He was so happy that he fed the fluffy bird very generously and petted her until she fell asleep blissfully, sitting on the back of the chair, hardly able to fly away anyway after all the treats she'd got.

In the evening Harry found him in bed sad and deep in his thoughts, absently looking at the rose in the vase on the nightstand; the rose that Harry had sent him earlier. Gently he kissed Draco out of his pensiveness.

"Hi..." he whispered.

"Evening, Harry. How was your day?"

"Dull. I missed you. What's wrong, Draco?" he asked softly.

"Nothing."

"Draco..."

"I've been just considering... Well... It's really nothing of importance, just some memories," Draco replied after a short pause.

"Not very good memories, I see." Harry sat down on the bed beside him and prepared to listen, hoping that this time Draco would talk about things that bothered him, instead of changing the subject. He felt uneasy every time Draco retreated into himself.

"The thing is... When we'd broken up, when you were leaving school and I was following you with my eyes, I..." Draco began, not quite sure how to explain what he felt.

"God, baby... You never told me. I..."

"I know. It's not the point. The point is that when you'd left the school that day, I tried to convince myself that it was normal to be alone. People, coming into this world, are supposed to be self-sufficient, and they don't need a soul mate, a lover, by their side to exist. We can survive without it easily, don't you agree? It was a familiar point to me, because I'd never been this close to anyone before, and I'd never really asked for it. I still think it's true, but, since I'd been shown what it was like to be with someone who, metaphorically speaking, held my heart in his hand, I felt incomplete and... I was positive that I would never be able to feel really whole again. I think... if you wouldn't have come back to me, I would've overcome the loss sooner or later; I was actually close to it, at least, for the child, because he needs a father, not a lovesick wreck. But I think I would have never felt whole again. It... As if I'd lost a limb. They say it's possible to accommodate yourself to the life without it, but you'll always miss it or even feel the phantom pains. I may be wrong," He frowned and chuckled joylessly. "Of course, I am. It's stupid... and I've been enormously, _**ridiculously**_ pathetic lately. Apart from all the sentimental figures of speech, heart is just a muscle."

"They say it's the strongest muscle," Harry replied.

"Well, I'm not sure. Mine is not that healthy, so I'm not the one to judge."

"It just needs a lot of love and care," the dark-haired youth said softly and kissed Draco's clothed chest, feeling the heartbeats with his lips. "You know, I agree with those who think it's the strongest. It doesn't stop working even when we're asleep. And it reacts to the smallest changes of our mood and our lives. It's an indicator of many things."

"Great... I'm a whiner and you're playing along."

"If I've got your words right, you just worry about _**us**_," Harry sighed. Did Draco still feel insecure about their relationship? Was he still scared of losing Harry again?

"Well... I don't know. Now I do, in two hours I won't. Bloody hormones drive me mad," the irritated blond mumbled into the pillow.

"You have nothing to worry about, I promise. We're going to be just fine, I know it. Do you feel whole now? In general I mean."

"I suppose I do," Draco shrugged and turned on his back.

"Good," Harry smiled at him and put his head on the blonde's thighs, almost pressing his face to his lower stomach. "Our little sweetie is suspiciously calm. Either he's sleeping soundly, or he's up to something," he mumbled lazily after several minutes of silence.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, love. If he's up to something, I'm sure it has something to do with his feet and my ribs," Draco sighed.

"Ouch..." Harry whispered sympathetically and started to kiss the lower part of the belly, accidentally putting slightly uncomfortable pressure on Draco, who winced and squirmed a little.

"Harry, stop it if you don't want to rest in wetted bed," he warned.

"Hmm?" Harry murmured in blissful ignorance.

"Goodness... Because I'm about to pee all over myself right now. How else am I supposed to explain?" Draco said with slight annoyance in his voice.

"Mmmm... Sounds sexy," Harry purred jokingly.

"Wetting my pants and bed, and your disgustingly happy face in addition, sounds sexy? Well, you're a pervert; I always suspected something like this. Saint Potter? Hah!" Draco sneered, putting Harry to shame, or rather just teasing him. Harry gasped sharply in mock astonishment:

"What a bully!"

"It's not like you didn't know it," Draco shrugged. "So shut it, scar-head," he teased. Harry helped him to get up, chuckling at the banter.

"There goes our lofty conversation."

"Oooh... These bathroom visits are so terribly annoying, especially when it's so hard to aim, because I haven't seen my cock for months; can you imagine it?" Draco informed loudly, once he'd made it to the bathroom.

"I could help you with that, you know. Aiming, I mean," was the amused answer from the bedroom.

"Pfft... You just want a chance to grope me all over."

"Of course, I do! You're so soft and round," Harry whined with longing and affection in his voice.

"You mean, fat?" the blond sighed, washing his hands.

"No, you're not fat, just... soft where it feels quite nice to touch and... hot."

"I'm telling you you're a pervert," Draco replied with a smile, returning to the bedroom.

"Fine, I'm a pervert. When we were just... well, friends, I... smelled your pillow when you were away, because I thought it was the only way to feel it; well, because I just like the way you smell. And you know what?" Harry smirked cheekily. "I thought I'd faint, because all my blood went down and I was thinking of you in that bed," he teased. Draco gasped.

"You jerked off in my bed, hugging and smelling my pillow?" he sounded quite amused and curious with a shade of fake accusation in his voice; at the same time, he was just joking. However, they'd just found out that there were still things that could make both of them blush, even if slightly.

"No! Of course, not! Your damned snake scared the hell out of me," Harry sighed, making Draco laugh. "No, I actually wouldn't have done that anyway, because back then I would've possibly decided that it was disrespectful towards you and our friendship. Not sure what I would've done, honestly, but considering that I felt ashamed of myself, even because of that little act of fetishism, I wouldn't have gone any further, I guess," the brunet said more seriously now.

"Aww! Such a gentleman," Draco purred, embracing his lover. "When did that happen?"

"On the same day that I invited you to a restaurant, just earlier,"

"It was a good evening," the blond smiled as they were holding each other.

"Yes, it's true. God, you were so beautiful that I thought my heart would burst. Well, you're always beautiful and I don't think I would ever start to get tired of looking at you. But back then... I thought I looked like an obsessed fool; I devoured your every word and every look. You've got me wrapped around your little finger."

"If I only knew that I wasn't the only one who fell so hard, I would've invited you into my room when you'd walked me to it," Draco kept teasing.

"I'm glad that you didn't. I don't think there was any way I could control myself."

"What makes you think I wanted you to control yourself?"

"I don't know... I'm glad that we've got together when we were ready."

"Ready? You wouldn't have done a thing if I didn't kiss you first! Gods, that kiss was so embarrassing. I really hadn't planned it. It was so spontaneous, and it was one of the clumsiest things in my entire life. Believe it or not, I surprised myself just as much as I surprised you."

"Thank you for that kiss, love. I'm sure that I would've done something like that, eventually, because I don't think I could hold back any longer, even though having you was some kind of unrealisable dream. I was just afraid to lose your friendship, but then you made that step, and I'm very grateful for it. Oh, and I couldn't wait and ravished you the very same day," Harry winked playfully, but then became serious again. "I wish I made it more special."

"Well, it _**was**_ special, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I was just afraid you'd think that it was the only thing I wanted from you. I was afraid that I was a little too persistent and that I was somehow taking advantage over you and you weren't really ready to go that far."

"Indeed, I wasn't ready at all; but everything was great and I didn't want you to stop. I was just... shy, I admit. I think I do have the right to be bashful sometimes, too."

"Of course, you do."

"Let's stop talking about ravishing me. What am I supposed to do with this now?" Draco sighed, took Harry's hand and pressed it to his groin. Harry's hand felt Draco's hardness and fondled it gently, and his own flesh responded eagerly. But he couldn't disregard Pomfrey's recommendation to stint themselves in sex for the time being.

"What if we do it carefully?" Draco offered; his voice was full of plea and arousal.

"Then let me do it with minimal stress for you," Harry said softly and they kissed. Draco turned on his back and helped Harry to undress him. The blond trusted his lover enough to be sure that he wouldn't do anything that could be harmful, though he couldn't understand how on earth the gentle lovemaking could be harmful for him at all, so he almost frowned at Harry's tentativeness.

"Try to relax and don't strain yourself. Just allow me to take care of you, all right?" Harry whispered and pressed his lips against Draco's. "No ravishing tonight," he smiled.

"Oh, what a pity..." his lover sighed. Of course, he hadn't expected anything different. At least, he took his pleasure in looking at Harry's toned body and enjoyed watching him undress. After the minutes of hot kisses on the lips, Harry's greedy mouth travelled down to the pale neck and small nipples, never forgetting how sensitive they were, so he treated them with care. Although Draco enjoyed it very much, he couldn't help but pull Harry up and met his lips with his own again. He caressed the dark hair with hands, running his fingers through it and tugging at it gently. There was no usual rush and impatience between them, they took their time, enjoying each other, breaking kisses just to smile at each other or look into each other's eyes with tenderness. It was so intense and reassuring that Draco had already forgotten all the doubts and worries that had been troubling him lately.

"Mmh... You're so..." he murmured and kissed Harry's neck. His lips moved up to Harry's cheekbone and ear. "...So wonderful..." he whispered almost indistinctly. His love moaned and nipped his earlobe softly. The next moment Draco's persistent tongue was inside his mouth and Harry sucked on it. Both youths started to get a bit more fervent; breathing became erratic, kisses - deeper and even more passionate. ..

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><p>Don't follow the link if you're not 18 yet:<p>

http (colon) (double slash) hp . adult fanfiction . net (slash) story. php ? no (equals sign) 600093977 (ampersand) chapter (equals sign) 22

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><p>...The brunet cleaned himself and the bedcovers, and lay down next to relaxed Draco's body. Once their breathing had come back to normal, Harry covered them both with quilt. The blond turned on his side to face Harry and also because he was a bit tired of being on his back, since it wasn't quite comfortable for him. He felt as his son stretched out for a few moments and shifted inside of him as if trying to find more comfortable position, too. After all, he didn't have enough space to move more actively anymore. Draco smiled at the movement and pressed his hand to his belly, feeling peace and contentment, especially when Harry embraced him.<p>

"Are you all right?" Harry whispered.

"Yes... Thank you. I needed it to get some foolish thoughts out of my head," Draco chuckled softly.

"I'm fully at your disposal, love. Tired?"

"Yes. Very..."

"Guess we've spent all your energy on casting the foolish thoughts out of your head."

"I'll answer to this later when I'm able to come up with some caustic remark," the blond slurred sleepily. He gave in and closed his eyes. "I'm a fool for you, do you know it? A complete and utter fool..."

"I love you, too. Take a nap," Harry smiled.

In the morning, however, Draco was still languid. Dressing himself to go to his training, Harry had accidentally woken him up, as his belt had fallen on the floor and the metal buckle hit it.

"Didn't mean to wake you up, sorry. Morning," he said, once he noticed that the blonde's eyes were half-opened, regretting that he'd disturbed his sleep.

"Morning... Name me just one reason why I should get up. I don't feel like it at all. Give me some motivation, please," Draco murmured.

"Rest some more, baby. Remember what Madam Pomfrey said?"

"Yes... 'Stay in bed and rest if you feel like it'," the blond mimicked, frowning.

"Indeed," Harry smiled and pulled the warm quilt up to the back of Draco's head, leaving only his face outside the cocoon.

"This is infuriating," the blond said unenthusiastically, but then smiled back.

"By the way, I forgot to tell you yesterday that she'd firecalled and said she'd be here in the afternoon to examine you, because she'd be busy in the evening."

"Fine..."

"I'll come back before she arrives," Harry promised and kissed Draco's face.

He was very reluctant to leave, but came back just before Pomfrey flooed in.

"It would be better for everyone if I had an assistant when you'll be giving birth; just in case," the mediwitch said after examining Draco and the child.

"I'm sure Severus will be very helpful," the blond replied.

"With all respect, Severus is not even a mediwizard," she argued.

"He's a good healer, and you know very well that I'm speaking from experience here. I'm sure he has already read plenty of books about pregnancy since he found out about mine," Draco insisted.

"Even so, he has no experience."

"I refuse to get anyone else involved in this," the blond youth pouted. Pomfrey sighed. The boy was stubborn like hell and it was hardly the first time she was facing it, so she just made a helpless gesture with her hands.

The dull and uneventful days followed and people around Draco did their best not to let him retreat into himself completely.

One evening Harry was telling Draco about some events that had taken place during his day earlier while they were having their supper. Soon Harry noticed that the blond didn't look very interested and finally stopped talking when his fair-haired love put his knife and fork on the table near his still almost full plate.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know..." Draco sighed.

"What is it, baby? Why don't you eat? Are you not feeling well?" Harry said and kissed his forehead, as he approached him.

"I'm not hungry. And I feel strange."

"What is it? Tell me."

"I'm just tired again, I suppose. I'd even love to go for a walk in the garden right now, but... I don't feel very well," Draco sighed again. He really felt indisposed, so he had the right to whine, didn't he?

"I think you have to lie down. We'll go for a walk tomorrow, okay?" Harry smiled.

"Okay."

Harry walked him to the bedroom and they both snuggled up together, once they'd washed themselves and changed into their pyjamas. Harry hadn't slept all previous night, preparing himself for an important test, so he didn't mind about going to bed this early.

Draco wasn't sure what exactly had woken him up. It was almost five in the morning. He sat up and looked at Harry, who was sleeping peacefully beside him. Quietly, not to disturb his sleep, Draco got up, feeling the urge to use the toilet. Deciding that it had been the reason of his early awakening, he went to the bathroom. But the fullness of his bladder and some discomfort in the lower stomach weren't the only things he felt; in addition there were contractions again, like some other days before it. For this reason he'd firecalled Pomfrey two times and after examining him both times she'd confirmed that those had been false contractions, - a normal and usual, even, as she'd said, 'a necessary thing' during the last month of pregnancy; he'd read about it, so there had been no panic. Last time he'd been examined only five days ago for the same reason.

It had never really hurt and he wasn't feeling any pain now, too, so he was calm. Yesterday during the day he'd felt these spasms in his stomach more times than usually. He lay down into bed again and soon fell into a slumber. Just an hour later he woke up again, feeling already familiar hardenings and almost painless cramps in his stomach, and a similar feeling in the small of his back. A bit irritated at first that these stupid contractions didn't let him rest properly, he soon noticed that they felt stronger than ever before, though quite infrequent. Another hour and a half he was lying awake, paying attention to everything his body felt. The contractions didn't stop and Draco felt a small lump in his throat, because he was now almost sure that this time it was real. He was going to give birth! Soon! No matter how long he'd been preparing himself for this, it still frightened him now that it had really started. Even though he wasn't really fidgeting, sitting in bed with his back propped up by pillows, it seemed his nervousness somehow felt around him enough to wake Harry up.

"Draco? What is it, love?" he asked gently and sleepily, noticing Draco's slight tension. It seemed quite early for Draco to be awake and Harry was also a bit worried about the blonde's breathing, which sounded like a breathing of the person that tried to calm down.

"I think it has begun," the blond whispered. It startled Harry and eliminated the leftovers of his sleep.

"Oh, God... Are you all right? Are you sure it's not some... false labour again?"

"I'm sure. It feels different," Draco nodded. Harry took a deep, nervous breath and got up.

"All right... I'll be back in a moment," he said and quickly headed to the bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as fast as he could, and returned to the bedroom where he changed his clothes, nearly falling when he was taking off his pyjama pants.

"Harry, please, stop the panic," Draco frowned a bit, though watching Harry's fussing was somehow entertaining. In the other circumstances he was sure he would have laughed at Harry's hair, sticking out madly in all directions, worse than usually.

"Just tell me what to do," Harry said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his slightly trembling hand on his lover's shoulder.

"Lie down and hold me," the blond shrugged, as he lay down on his side and placed one of the pillows between his knees.

"But..." Harry tried to protest.

"Look, I'm not giving birth right now. My body is only preparing for it. I believe I'm having some anatomical changes down there; well... mostly internal changes," _'If everything's all right with me,'_ he added to himself. "You've read about it, haven't you?"

"Yes, right..."

"Well, I'm going to have those changes and the dilation takes a long time, too. At least, normally it lasts long; there'd be serious complications otherwise, because my body wouldn't be prepared enough. There's plenty of time, I think..." Draco sighed. Harry nodded, lay down behind him and wrapped his arms around him, trying not to worry too much.

"How do you feel?" he asked twenty minutes later, unable to keep silence anymore.

"I don't know. It's... odd. Just... be quiet, please. Don't take offence... I just need some time to compose myself," Draco said, burying himself even deeper in his lover's embrace and feeling slightly anxious beating of his heart against his back.

"It's all right. I understand," Harry said.

"Does it hurt?" he couldn't help but ask with sympathy when he saw Draco wincing and felt the way his tummy hardened, as he placed his hand on it. He hoped that almost an hour of silence had been enough for Draco 'to compose himself'. He was too concerned to stay quiet any longer.

"Not really. Well, it hurts, just a little, but nothing terrible... Look, go tell Severus. Just please stay calm. I really need you to be calm now; for me."

"All right, Draco... All right," Harry nodded and squeezed the blonde's shoulder gently and supportively. He got up and left the room. In fifteen minutes he returned with Madam Pomfrey, and Draco was sure he heard Severus' voice at the door before Harry and the mediwitch entered. It seemed Harry had alerted everyone, but Draco wasn't angry at him. How would he have felt if his lover didn't care about him?

"Good morning, dear," the healer greeted him.

"Good morning, madam Pomfrey," he replied quietly.

"Harry told me you have contractions. When did you notice the first ones?"

"About four hours ago. They are still not frequent, but quite regular," he explained.

"Let's see..." she murmured and cast several spells.

"So?" the blond asked impatiently when she finished.

"You're indeed in labour," she confirmed. He didn't know how he felt about it, though her answer was hardly a surprise. Unmistakably, he was having the real contractions and she'd only confirmed what he already knew.

"Is everything all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes. The stage of dilation has really begun, and Draco still has plenty of time to finish his physical changes before the stage of delivery. The birth channel will form in time, I'm sure of it."

"Thank goodness..." the dark-haired youth smiled slightly.

"I'll be in school. Firecall me any time, or else I'll come back in three hours to examine you again," the mediwitch promised Draco. "You don't need me right now, but I'll be ready to floo back to you any moment."

They thanked her and she left.

"I want to take a shower," Draco sighed, getting up. "It's best to do it now while I still can enjoy it," he joked gloomily, not sure if it was really a joke, though.

"Do you need some help?" Harry offered. He tried his best not to show how much he was worried about Draco and, at the same time, overjoyed about their soon to arrive baby boy now that there was no doubt that Draco was in labour.

"I could use some," the blond nodded.

He pressed his palms and forehead against the smooth marble wall and closed his eyes, allowing the warm water to flow down his body. Just a minute later he smiled faintly when the pleasant, delicate scent of his favourite soap filled his nostrils and caring soapy hands of his lover started to slide over his shoulders and back, and along the length of his arms, as Harry had reduced the water flow not to let it wash off the soap too soon. It was soft and relaxing. Then, without moving away from the wall or opening his eyes, he enjoyed the gentle rubbing of the washcloth. When the foam was washed off, he felt the touch of Harry's lips on the back of his neck and smiled again. He inhaled deeply, feeling another contraction, but it didn't really distract him from the pleasant procedure. In the end Harry washed his hair and Draco purred at the attention. All the worries seemed to be far away. It was much more preferable than any words of support. For some time he just stood there, hearing the soft rustle of the washcloth, as Harry was washing himself behind his back.

Once they finished washing and drying themselves, and as soon as Draco was satisfied with the look of his hair in the mirror (it mattered even now to Harry's silent surprise and amusement), Harry helped his lover to put on the fresh, clean set of pyjama. When they returned to the bedroom, Draco was feeling much better and nestled in bed comfortably with the book he'd been reading lately. Harry didn't know what to do, and he needed something to distract himself from needless bustling, so he retrieved several textbooks from his trunk and did his best to concentrate and study, but he felt slightly alerted almost every time he heard Draco's breathing becoming uneven.

Almost an hour and a half later, Draco put the warm cloak on and decided to go out on the balcony to have some fresh air. Severus joined him soon and they talked like nothing was happening to the younger wizard; the man played along, even seeing some signs of nervousness on his godson's face, and sometimes the tension crossed it, as he was having every new contraction. Somehow, even scarcely saying anything about the current situation, Severus managed to release some of Draco's emotional tension, at least, for the time being.

By the time Pomfrey arrived the second time, the contractions were stronger and more frequent, though she said the progress was small, which was normal. When the mediwitch was leaving, Harry went to the fireplace with her to firecall one of his instructors after her departure. He decided to tell that he was taking, at least, several days off, because he didn't want to be bothered by letters or firecalls, knowing that they would try to find out why he was absent. The last time he'd asked for several days off after Draco's abduction, he'd explained that his close friend was unwell and Harry needed to take care of him; this time he just told that his friend needed him again, as he couldn't think up something more creative. Although Harry was a good liar when it was really necessary, he didn't want to mention any kind of illness, because he simply didn't want to think of Draco as of someone who was ill, as if afraid to invite a trouble. Draco was in labour, not ill, which, of course, Harry wouldn't tell to a stranger. To his surprise, the man scowled at him and told him that 'the poor health of his close friends' wasn't a sufficient reason to skip his lessons 'all the time'. Harry clenched his jaw at that. Discipline was one thing, it was understandable and all, but the way the older man replied nearly made Harry fire up and tell him to fuck off. He managed to keep his anger at bay. He was going to dedicate his time to his family and he didn't give a damn about the overzealous ex-Aurors.

Once Harry had left to make this firecall, Draco let himself worry almost openly. His pain had already intensified, radiating to his lower back and thighs. He suddenly became very anxious, as the reality of the situation had struck him. _'Oh, gods, I'm not ready... Fuck, I've tried to prepare myself for this for months, and yet, I'm not ready,'_ he panicked inwardly. It was really happening to him, - he was going to give birth. In his thoughts, concentrating as best as he could, he counted to fifty and back, like he often did to calm his nerves. Soon Harry returned and sat on the edge of the bed; his eyes locked with Draco's.

"Draco, are you scared?" he asked softly.

"No..." the blond replied, but caught himself at lies, which, by the way, didn't even sound convincing. And Harry's empathy could hardly be fooled, anyway. "Yes, I am," Draco sighed and lowered his gaze. "It's just... Women are getting ready for this since their childhood, I think, but I..." he tried to explain, but gave it up and shook his head. Harry looked at him with love and understanding. He opened his mouth slightly, but closed it, as he couldn't decide what was best to say. Instead, he took Draco's hand in his and touched the palm with his lips. _'I'm scared, too,'_ he thought, but wouldn't have voiced it, nevertheless.

Hours had passed and the pain was getting much stronger than in the beginning. Draco tried to distract himself by absorbing himself in reading almost fanatically. Harry had long given up his attempts to study, because he'd failed to focus and nothing had been lingering in his head. When someone firecalled, he was glad about the chance to leave the bedroom just for some time. He felt guilty at the thought, of course, but, on the other hand, Draco didn't need him there all the time and would rather snap at Harry for fussing over him too much. The blond had already turned him out of the room once, and had made sure that Harry had had a good dinner by asking Florie to see to it and inform him later. Harry hadn't been really hungry, but he'd eaten most of the delicious food the house elf had served him.

Harry answered the firecall and saw Hermione's face.

"Hi, Harry!" she greeted him. "Ron and I have been thinking about going somewhere this weekend. We thought that maybe you..."

"No, Mione, sorry," he interrupted. "I will hardly be able to go anywhere within the next few days, at the very least. Draco's in labour," he informed, failing to hide his nervousness. He didn't have to hold back for her as he had to hold back for Draco right now. She gasped quietly.

"Goodness, how is he?"

"In pain," Harry sighed.

"I see... And how are _**you**_ holding?"

"I'll be fine... I guess..."

"Hold on, both of you. Go to him. But, please, keep in touch, Harry."

"I'll contact you as soon as I can," he promised.

"Good luck," Hermione smiled at him.

"Thanks," he nodded and ended the call. Without delay he came back to the bedroom. Draco's book now was on the nightstand, forgotten. The blond looked tense, but obviously tried to hold on. The quilt was in front of him and between his legs, as he was lying on his side. At the same time, his face was buried into it, but Harry could see that the blonde's eyes were closed, though not too tight. The quilt muffled the small and occasional sounds of pain, and the youth slightly trembled every time he had another contraction; now they were even more frequent and longer lasting. Harry's heart slightly clenched with worry and sympathy. He sighed and started to caress Draco's hair and back gently. The blond stayed in this position for more than an hour, never opening his eyes, never saying anything, and Harry made him aware of his constant presence with soft, loving touches. It was Draco who spoke first:

"Harry, could you pour me a glass of water?" he asked.

"Of course," the brunet replied and poured a full glass of water from the carafe. Draco sat up with a sigh.

"Oh, damnation... It hurts..." he whined quietly, taking a glass. He drank more than a half of the water and passed the glass back to Harry, wincing. He turned on the other side as he lay down, and this time Harry spooned up behind him. He sleeked Draco's slightly dishevelled hair and kissed the back of his head.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No... Just you."

Only almost an hour later Harry got up as Pomfrey knocked and entered the room; he didn't want to be on her way, as she was obviously going to examine Draco again.

"How do you feel?" she asked the blond softly after several minutes of casting the diagnostic spells.

"Wonderful," he grumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

"I need to make sure everything is forming properly," she warned. He understood what she was going to do, so with the quiet, irritated grumble he pulled his pyjama pants down to his knees and let her examine him; the quilt still covered his front. She sighed in relief that he cooperated without arguing, even when she had to spread his buttocks apart to see if everything looked normal for this stage. He was too busy, feeling another painful contraction, to feel really embarrassed by her actions.

"Well? Does it look beautiful enough to you?" he mumbled when she finished the examination.

"Very beautiful." She rolled her eyes and chuckled softly. Some sarcasm and grumbling, but, at least, no tantrums she'd secretly expected from him. Even though she'd warmed up to him, he was a pain in the neck as a patient; he'd always been. Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle of his own, especially seeing a small smile on the face of his love, in spite of pain. Draco pulled his pants up.

"I'll be downstairs in the living room. Call me if you need me," the healer said. Both youths nodded and she left their bedroom.

It was already midnight, almost twenty hours since Draco had noticed the first contractions. He was tired, and stabs of pain were very strong now. He also felt sick, so even if he was allowed to eat, he knew he would have thrown up.

"This is normal. It's even considered normal for a female pregnancy to dilate this long. You're almost dilated enough to give birth, but it's still early to push the baby out. You know you're going to feel the urge. Everything's fine with both of you. Hold on. I'm sure you'll be able to push soon and it will give you some control over the process," Madam Pomfrey soothed her tired and upset patient.

"He's been in pain for such a long time. Can you do something to lessen it?" Harry asked quietly, as he followed the mediwitch to the door.

"I could, but any strong pain-relieving potions, efficient enough for him to feel the difference, would, most likely, lengthen the labour. They can also make Draco and the baby sleepy. I assure you he wouldn't have to wait long," she promised him.

"I hope you're right," Harry sighed and turned his face at Draco's small cry of pain.

Not only contractions were very painful, but they also were literally running into each other, leaving him no time to relax, so the pain was constant and exhausting. Draco had already stopped trying to hold back moans and cries, writhing every time he was unable to tolerate. He could also feel the baby even lower in his pelvis, and it felt rather uncomfortable, but he was ready to beg his little one to be born sooner; though, of course, he knew that nothing depended on his child, and he felt like nothing depended on him, Draco, either. It seemed there was no progress at all since contractions had become this excruciating, and it also seemed he was suffering in vain, while he still couldn't push. It frustrated him.

When he was fully dilated, but still couldn't push, Pomfrey suggested him to get up with Harry's help and pace the room carefully and slowly, asserting that it could speed up the whole process a bit, as there was a chance to make the baby move down a little faster. He looked at the mediwitch as if she was crazy, and angrily covered himself with blanket, turning away from everyone and wishing to be left alone. The pain was driving him up the wall and she dared to suggest him getting up and strutting about! Even with Harry's help it seemed ridiculous, especially with the painful trembling Draco felt in his thighs. An hour ago Harry had almost carried him to the bathroom, as Draco's bladder felt extremely compressed and he was hardly able to control it, so he'd begged Harry to hurry up. Moreover, he needed to urinate almost every hour and, once those strong contractions had kicked in, he doubted he was able to get to the bathroom without some help, especially now. Feeling mildly nauseous again to boot, he became completely sure that the entire thing was undoubtedly meant to exhaust him before he would finally make it to the delivery.

Another hour had passed and Harry was trying his best to hide his concern, because it was hard to see his love going through such suffering.

"You know, I'm going to miss your tummy when it'll be over," he said softly, putting his hand on it. The blond put his own hand on Harry's and squeezed it.

"Oh, Harry... If it lasts another couple of hours you'll be... Ahh!.. You'll be missing my sanity..." Draco forced out of himself and emitted another loud moan and then a sobbing sound. He was on the verge of weeping helplessly, and Harry saw it, so he prepared himself for doing everything he could to comfort him, though he doubted that he could do more than he already did. But suddenly the grey eyes widened and Draco gasped sharply.

"What is it?" Harry asked with concern. The blond pulled down the quilt and looked back. Harry followed his eyes and saw that the sheets and Draco's pants were wet. The blond suddenly felt so upset and ashamed that he wanted to ask Harry to leave. He didn't want Harry to think that he'd wetted himself or something.

"Oh, gods! This... this is not what you're thinking."

"Draco, I know what it is. Water has broken. And even if it was something else, you don't have to worry about anything. There's no way you could embarrass yourself in my eyes, I promise, love," Harry assured. He helped Draco, who was moaning in pain and tried to hide his face in pillow, to take off his pants and dried the bed with spell, comforting his lover with sweet nothings he was saying softly. "I have to call Pomfrey and tell her about it," he said then. Draco groaned, feeling another sharp stab of pain, and grabbed Harry's hand.

"Wait... Harry, would you, please, help me to... change? Just need..." He moaned, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his stomach, as he stopped speaking for several moments. "I... just need a clean, dry nightshirt. I guess there's no necessity of wearing pants now, so... ummh... Look for a longer shirt, long enough to cover my... privates," Draco asked. His voice was small, trembling and pained, and Harry wanted to kiss him all over and comfort him, but he hurried to honour Draco's request.

"Of course. Just a moment," he said. It didn't take him much time to find the white nightshirt in the chest of drawers, and he helped Draco to change; he actually did most of the work, because his lover was almost convulsing from the pain.

"Thanks, love. Are you sure... you want to be here with me?" the blond asked with the very obvious strain in his voice.

"Absolutely! Why are you even asking?"

"I just... I just think... Gods! ...Think it's going to be quite an unpleasant show." Draco moaned and arched his back.

"I've already told you, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I want to be with you. I only care about you and him," Harry assured him gently, touching the hardened belly and feeling the movements of his son. And then he started to rub the small of Draco's back again, as they had already found out that it was a little helpful to reduce the pain or rather distract the blond from it just a little bit. Draco, nevertheless, kept groaning into the pillow, clenching it with his hand.

Pomfrey examined Draco again, as Harry had called her, and promised that the delivery would begin very soon. It infuriated Draco, because it wasn't the first time she'd said the word 'soon', but the pain was too strong for him even to snap at her. He felt awful, because he also kept leaking slightly, and asked Harry to dry the sheets again. But ten minutes had not yet passed since the mediwitch had left the room when Draco felt the long-awaited urge to push.

"Harry, call her back... I think I'm giving birth!" he informed and almost doubled over with pain. He cried out. Harry ran after the healer, hating to leave the long wails behind his back.

Whilst alone, the blond tried to push a couple of times experimentally, just to test the waters, so to speak, but it didn't feel like his attempts brought any result at all, and the pain had only become worse, so he felt insecure.

"Draco, dear, where would you feel comfortable?" Pomfrey asked him calmly when Harry had returned with her. She would have felt better in her infirmary in school, but she knew Draco would hardly agree to it, and transferring the boy would have only increased his discomfort.

"Here, in... this bed," he moaned. She nodded, as she'd been expecting the answer all along. She and Harry helped him to get up on his knees. Draco emitted a long sound of pain, but he wasn't sure if it was a scream or a loud groan. Madam Pomfrey placed several clean, folded sheets under him and Harry pressed his beloved to his own chest, sitting on the knees in front of him to be his support. He didn't know how he'd come up with this, but somehow it felt right, especially when Draco wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Draco, I need to be here to prevent you from getting birth injuries and to look after yours and your baby's health. I'll try not to cause you any additional discomfort, but you'll have to listen to me," the healer told him softly, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He only nodded and moaned loudly. "All right, let's push," she said.

He started his new attempts to push the child out. He groaned and cried in pain, clutching Harry's shoulders harder. He was squatting or sitting on his knees, his legs were shaking and Harry held him to take some of his weight. About fifteen minutes of it seemed like an hour. He tried and tried, but he hardly felt his baby moving down his birth channel, and it discouraged him.

"It hurts... I can't..." he whispered painfully, breathing hard and trembling.

"It's all right. You're doing very well," Madam Pomfrey assured him. And he continued. Sometimes she had to remind him to push in the middle of a contraction to make his efforts productive. She also reminded him to breathe when he was holding his breath. The pain and strain were exhausting and seemed endless. Somewhere in the background he could hear her instructions, Harry's soothing words and Draco's own loud sounds of pain. Later he could feel tears running down his face and the cold, wet cloth that gently and frequently cleaned his face and neck from said tears and sweat. Harry was there and never left Draco's side. His hand often rubbed Draco's back or belly, or supported the blond under his thighs when he felt it was necessary. He noticed and gently touched the vein on Draco's temple that had bulged because of the tension. He sighed. Gods, he did what he could, but he desperately wanted to be more helpful.

Almost losing his connection with reality, Draco remembered asking his mother once if giving birth was truly such a painful and terrible thing. Narcissa had answered that it had been the most painful experience in her entire life. And then she'd smiled and very young Draco, probably six or seven years old, had found it quite strange after what she had said. She'd explained that when she had first seen him, held him in her arms and pressed him to her chest, she'd realised that she would have readily agreed to endure much more pain just for that private and special moment of closeness with her son. Narcissa had assured him that he was worth every moment of pain. It had been one of the moments when she'd showed her love openly, which hadn't been very often, though somehow she'd never let him doubt. She'd also told him that, no matter how painful it had been, she'd always remembered that the pain had been necessary and she'd had to accept it, because without it she wouldn't have been able to bring her awaited and loved child into this world. Now he realised what it meant. He knew he had to face this necessary pain. All attempts to avoid it would only lengthen his sufferings. He knew it instinctively and remembering his mother's words was also very helpful by some means. Now, due to circumstances, it seemed to be something like a secret that she had revealed to him or it simply heartened him. Draco thanked her kindly in his thoughts.

It was nearly a self-destruction, and it was the only way to give birth to his child; there was a price to pay for the new life. He had to endure it to be finally able to take his infant in his arms, so he could forget the pain, calm them both down and have a good rest. Oh, he wanted to hold his son so much! He whimpered at that overwhelming desire and a new tear escaped his eye. Harry's vision became blurry with his own tears when he saw it; he kissed the tear away.

Screaming and crying literally into Harry's shoulder, Draco doubled his efforts, wondering where he had taken the strength for it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he was going to be torn apart, as he felt that the baby's head had only started to come out, but it didn't stop him and he kept pushing, even sure somehow that there was blood, though he didn't look.

"The head is almost out," Madam Pomfrey finally informed with a small smile. She slightly helped to guide the baby's head out completely. "Very good, now breathe and let's take a short break, all right?" she said, seeing that he was overstraining himself. As he was breathing with obvious exhaustion, he was sobbing almost dryly and shaking all over, clutching Harry's tee shirt on his shoulder with one hand and Harry's hand with his other one.

"Look at me, dear," the mediwitch asked. He raised his flushed face and turned to her reluctantly. She looked into his eyes and then scanned him with spells.

As he continued pushing, he felt the baby's body turning slightly, still inside, and somehow it seemed surreal. He heard Harry's soft words of encouragement, praise and support, but Draco himself was quite sure that he was on his last legs. He thought that maybe he'd had to spare some strength before. His heart suddenly started to hurt, but he was hardly paying attention, because _**everything**_ hurt. He started to doubt that he would ever be able to heal after this, especially 'down there', as he was exerting himself to the utmost. Soon the healer informed that one of the baby's shoulders was almost out and promised Draco that it would only take a little more of his efforts to deliver his baby. Harry tried to look down and regretted it very soon when he only saw Draco's blood on the white folded sheets, so he decided not to look again until it was over. There wasn't much blood, but it didn't matter. The fact that he'd seen blood many times before didn't mean he was all right with looking at it, knowing whose blood it was. He felt that Draco was really, really tired. His arms weren't holding him as tight as before, though they were around his neck; hands weren't grasping his tee shirt any longer. Despite his weakness, Draco kept pushing, knowing that the hardest part was over. Only one more shoulder, just some more effort and... he would be able to rest. He was grateful that the mediwitch was carefully guiding the baby out, just helping him a little. And, finally, once he was told that the other shoulder of his little one had come out, he gave in, knowing that it was safe for his child now...

Harry and Madam Pomfrey both simultaneously realised that something was wrong. At first Draco quietened down, then Harry suddenly felt that his love went limp in his arms and Draco's own arms hanged down helplessly. It had happened unexpectedly, before Harry knew it. But the mediwitch reacted rather quickly and professionally. It was safe and easy now to pull the rest of the baby's body out, which she did. She only checked Draco's vitals before fixing her attention on the baby for a short time. With 'Anapneo' spell she cleared the baby's airway and cut the umbilical cord with the other spell. Covered in Draco's blood and trembling, the newborn immediately started to cry piercingly, once his airway had been cleared; apparently, he was not very happy to be out of his daddy's very warm, comfortable and safe body. The healer cast the warming charm on him to prevent him from getting cold and put him on a clean sheet. Everything had been done quickly, so she could take care of Draco now. Meanwhile, Harry kept holding him, calling his name and shaking him slightly. He felt lost and confused. Madam Pomfrey examined Draco and found another mild heart attack, despite the strong potion she'd given him earlier to support his heart and despite the fact that the previous examination hadn't showed any signs of it.

"Is he..." Harry stuttered.

"He's breathing. Harry, I need you to put him down," she said with the voice that made him listen. Carefully Harry did what had been told and in a dreamlike state looked as the mediwitch cast healing spells on the unconscious and very pale body of his love. She opened her satchel and retrieved some blue vial. She uncorked it and cast the injective spell that allowed her to administer the transparent bluish liquid right into the vein on the inside of Draco's elbow through the tiny hole, which closed right after the woman had administered the required dose, only leaving the very small red dot on the pale skin. She knew it would start working immediately, because it had got right in the bloodstream. Her quick, but calm and confident actions were probably the only thing that kept Harry from breaking down, or he was rather too stunned to properly react to what was happening in front of him. Other examining spells followed and then the mediwitch did everything Draco's body required after giving birth, including the removal of afterbirth and cleaning him up. Harry automatically helped her to change Draco into the clean nightshirt. They also changed the bedcovers and let Draco rest, covering him with blanket. Harry stayed with him, while Pomfrey was busy with the baby, cleaning him up, examining him and properly taking care of the small piece of the birth cord on his tummy. Harry suspected that he would be angry with himself later for his stupor, but he couldn't help it. Without his participation the baby was taken care of: properly washed in the bathroom, soothed and put to sleep. Florie quietly transferred the baby's cot from the nursery to the bedroom and the wrapped up sleeping newborn was put into it.

Only later when everything was over, the mediwitch left and Florie, who was silently shedding floods of tears for Draco, brought Harry a cup of tea, though looking at him pretty coldly, he started to come to terms with the situation. Draco was alive and Madam Pomfrey had promised that he would recover. He only needed time and healing, but he wasn't dying and Harry wasn't losing him. Even though he blamed himself for the earlier state of complete helplessness, he knew he wouldn't have done anything useful and nothing had depended on him, since he wasn't a healer and there was a professional and trusted mediwitch by their side. But there still was some anger he felt about himself and couldn't help it. He also remembered that Pomfrey had insisted that he had to rest, too, because Draco would have been displeased if he knew that Harry exhausted himself needlessly. She had even promised that she would inform Draco about it, once he regained consciousness. Surprisingly her words triggered something in him when he remembered them. He changed into pyjamas and lay next to Draco, praying gods that his love would feel better when Harry woke up. Even the tiredness and lack of sleep didn't make him doze off soon, but in the end his mind just shut down.

He woke up almost in the evening, though he could remember he'd heard Snape's and Pomfrey's voices through his sleep, as the mediwitch, most definitely, had come to examine Draco several times. He wondered how she was holding without sleep, but decided that she simply slept between her visits. Draco was still unconscious and it took Harry some willpower not to weep, looking at him. But he didn't let himself fall apart. Instead, he took a shower, and it made him feel, more or less, rested. It was then when he finally decided to come closer to the cot. Tentatively and very carefully he took his sleeping son out of it and looked at him. The baby's skin wasn't as purplish as it had been right after his birth (as he'd managed to notice, without paying much attention back then, to his shame). It was light pink now, though Harry couldn't see all his body, dressed in wizarding light baby clothes. His very soft, thin hair was blond. It felt very fluffy, as Harry touched the head gently. He was curious what colour were the baby's eyes, but he saved it for later, not willing to disturb the child's sleep. He finally could take a closer look at him, instead of seeing some lump with small trembling limbs from the corner of his eye, like it had happened before. For Harry it suddenly was the most beautiful baby in the entire world, and he had witnessed his birth, but then he'd just ignored him, instead of taking care of him and making sure he was fine, as a good parent should have done. He sighed and closed his eyes in shame, then planted a gentle kiss on his son's forehead and looked at unconscious Draco with deep sadness. He'd imagined they would share a moment like this together. Even worse: his love hadn't even had a chance to hear the first cry of their baby, to look at him, to press him against his chest after birth, to warm and comfort him. It was too unfair after all Draco had gone through; after he'd had the child growing inside of him all those months as a part of him and after so much pain during the labour.

The baby finally opened his _**grey**_ eyes, a bit darker shade of grey than Draco's. They were so beautiful and pure that Harry wanted to cry.

"I'm so sorry... I hope it's not too late to say: happy birthday?" he whispered. The baby looked at him, but nowhere in particular, not into his eyes, anyway, and started to whimper pitifully. And then the little face scrunched up adorably and, when the baby started crying loudly, it reddened a little. At first Harry was confused. "Are you hungry, sweetie?" he asked gently. The next moment Florie appeared in the room with the bottle of milk and gave it to Harry. He thanked her. She didn't reply, but for some time stayed in the room to see if he was feeding the baby right. He gave the bottle to his upset son. The crying stopped immediately when the baby started to suck the warm milk, as Harry held both him and the bottle the way it was described in the book he'd thoroughly read weeks ago to be able to take care of his son. Florie looked at Draco one more time with the eyes full of tears and disappeared, once she'd made sure she had no reason to distrust Harry with taking care of the child. When the baby was full up and calm, Harry was just rocking him gently in his arms. The grey eyes were looking at the ceiling absently, but sometimes they looked at Harry's face. Harry had a chance to see more of his son whilst changing his nappy. Before dressing him, Harry trifled with the tiny toes gently. He took the little feet in his hands and kissed them, then put the baby's booties on them. When all baby's needs were satisfied, it didn't take long for Harry to rock him to sleep.

Two days later Draco hadn't even regained consciousness yet, but Pomfrey said that it was necessary to remove his womb and the other extra organs his body didn't need anymore, because they had already started to die off slowly. And, of course, it would be very harmful for Draco's health in general if she didn't perform the magical surgery as soon as possible. They hadn't even thought about such possibility before. No book explained what happened to the extra organs after they had served their purpose. Pomfrey had previously assumed that in most cases they were supposed to resolve by themselves magically or, at worst, just remained in the body as something that was no longer functional. But Draco's condition was different. She was almost sure it was an exceptional case, because it was strange that no source mentioned that these organs had to be removed. Otherwise no man would ever bother to tolerate such pain, giving birth, and would have no choice but allow cutting them out along with the child, which would have allowed the fathers to spare a lot of nerves, health and strength. Sadly, there was no information about cases like Draco's.

Even if Draco was unconscious and couldn't feel any pain and distress, Harry felt the whole situation keenly and was there with him during the magical surgery, not watching the course of the operation itself. It was another ordeal for Draco; he'd had so many of them lately, and Harry hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't unsettle his lover completely once he woke up.

His condition wasn't like coma; he often moved in his sleep slightly, even opened his eyes a couple of times, though, was hardly aware of anything at all, and fell asleep again very soon. Pomfrey said that now she _**kept**_ him asleep; and not only he needed rest to recover, but it also allowed to avoid strong pain-relieving potions. Harry took care of him as best as he could and spoke to him often, though there were no signs that Draco heard him through his sleep.

He sighed. He knew Hermione and Ron had already arrived to support him. He hadn't contacted them after the birth of his son, in spite of his promise, because he simply couldn't think of it in light of what had happened, so his very worried friends had firecalled him two days later. He had told Hermione about his reaction and helplessness when Draco had lost consciousness in his arms and how angry he was with himself for it. She'd scolded him, saying that it certainly was normal for a human being to be shocked by the possibility of losing a loved one, especially when he really couldn't help, and after losing so many people he'd loved, it was absolutely normal to react like this. Their conversation had taken an hour and Harry had felt better after it.

And now he'd invited both of his best friends, and he knew they were already waiting for him in the sitting room. He kissed Draco's cheek one more time and went to them. They both embraced him warmly and silently, once he'd entered the room where they were. This alone made him know that he had their support, no matter what, even if they all had their personal lives now. They drank some tea and talked to each other for some time.

"Could you show us the baby?" Hermione asked tentatively, but there were signs of impatience in her voice. Harry gave her a small smile and nodded. He brought his son, wrapped up in light, but warm blanket, and allowed her to take him in her arms. He knew he would never let anyone, except people he trusted completely, hold his baby. Hermione looked down at the warm sleepy boy in her arms and her eyes watered. It was so touching to realise that it was Harry's baby. None of them had ever thought that one of their Trio would have a baby _**this**_ soon. She was holding Harry's flesh and blood...

"Miracle," she smiled, blinking the tears away.

"So small... " Ron whispered.

"Well, he's only several days old," Harry shrugged.

"Harry, he's wonderful; beautiful, like a tiny angel. Congratulations, once again," Hermione said sincerely.

"Thanks," he nodded with a small smile.

"He resembles Malfoy, but I think he has your mouth," the redhead noted.

"Ron, how can you tell when he's so little? Things can change; even his hair colour will probably change in time," Hermione said. The baby started whimpering, completely awake.

"Oh, blimey, look what you've done with your lecturing," Ron frowned and carefully took the child in his own arms, though looking at Harry as if asking permission silently. His friend nodded, giving it and looking back with slight amusement. Ron was rocking the baby carefully, looking at the little face, scrutinising it.

"At least, tell us what the little man's name is," he asked.

"Officially he has no name yet. I'm... I'm waiting for Draco to wake up. But... When Draco was pregnant we were calling him Narcissus after Draco's mother.., sort of," Harry replied. He wasn't sure if Draco wanted to keep their baby's 'foetal name', though he didn't mind at all.

"Narcissus sounds good. Narcissus Malfoy sounds good, but Narcissus Potter sounds terrible," Ron chuckled quietly. He decided not to say that the name itself sounded obviously selfish. He hoped and somehow was almost sure that in this baby Harry's kind-heartedness and selflessness would carefully smooth over the Malfoyish egoism and other not very pleasant traces of character that Ron had always disliked. But then again, it was too early even to think about such things, looking at the one who had been born only a few days ago, so he quitted the guesswork.

"You can always use the hyphenated surname, like Malfoy-Potter or Potter-Malfoy. I think it's fair," Hermione suggested.

"Interesting idea. To be honest Draco and I have never really discussed it," Harry sighed. The baby whimpered again and then started crying loudly and heartbreakingly. Ron was rocking him gently, emitting the soothing noises, but it wasn't helpful. Harry already knew the sign of a hungry baby.

"I'll be right back," he said. Several moments later he came back with embroidered linen napkins and the bottle that was always prepared beforehand with the warming charm on it. He took his son in his arms and started feeding him, soothing the rest of baby's distress with soft, quiet words. His friends looked at him curiously. Hermione noticed that the milk in the bottle was slightly bluish.

"Is it some milk substitute?" she asked.

"Yes. Snape found the recipe to brew milk that's similar to breast milk; absolutely identical, actually; well.., except for its colour. It's very good for baby's stomach and his health in general," Harry explained. Hermione nodded her approval.

To be honest, Severus and Harry had come to a silent understanding lately, even though they'd been forced by circumstances. By a joint effort they took care of Draco and the baby, and seemed to be better than expected with the little child, despite the lack of experience. It didn't make things worse that they didn't talk much to each other (maybe, on the contrary, it was for the best). Harry really appreciated the practical help of a practical man. He wasn't sure he would be able to go through this alone. He had no doubt that Snape truly cared for Draco, and Harry wondered if the man could love the baby just as much, at least, because the child was Draco's flesh and blood. Harry couldn't tell so far. Only Florie seemed to have no doubt at all, considering her older master as baby's grandfather of some kind; at least, she acted like this and wouldn't give a damn if anyone disagreed. She didn't need to be given any clothes to have her own inflexible opinion and to be mulish as hell in her convictions.

Very quickly they'd learned that when the baby was making sniffing noises and sucking his fingers or knuckles, it meant he was hungry. At least, he usually did it. Only if they weren't attentive enough to notice the signs in time, he started to cry at the top of his lungs, and sometimes it took time to soothe him and even to make him drink his milk, in spite of his hunger, when he was really worked up. It actually reminded Snape of little Draco. His tiny prince had slept most of the time, too, but once he'd started crying, it sometimes had taken hours for Narcissa or the nursemaid to calm him down.

They also were aware that the little boy usually fell asleep sooner if he was wrapped up in a warm blanket, _**but**_ without any attempts to straighten him, at the same time. It soothed him well, probably because it resembled him being in Draco, comfortable and safe.

As Harry finished the feeding, he let Ron take the baby again and while the redhead was busy with him, Hermione, mostly with her eyes, gestured Harry that she wanted to talk in private for some time. They went out on the balcony.

"You look tired. How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, putting her hands on the wide stone railing and pressing her knee against the baluster.

"Fine... More or less," he sighed.

"How's Draco?"

"Madam Pomfrey still keeps him asleep, but she promised she'd stop sedating him very soon. She says he's recovering slowly but surely. He'll probably need to take some potions for several years."

"For his heart?"

"Yes. Not that it's going to be new to him, but he'll need a stronger medication now. At least... At least, he looks better; not as deathly pale as a couple of days ago. I was afraid that Madam Pomfrey was lying to me just to soothe me. I was afraid that he would never wake up."

"But you don't think so now?"

"I don't. But don't we all have a sceptical, stubborn and paranoid little fool in us?"

"I reckon that fool still makes you blame yourself for being shocked..."

"Hermione, don't even go there," he frowned, interrupting her. "It was almost like our sixth year, when I nearly killed Draco and just stood there like some... retarded fuckwit while he was bleeding. He almost died and I couldn't even move. And several days ago... If Draco's and my son's lives depended on me..."

"If their lives depended on you," this time _**she**_ interrupted. "You would've done your best even if it meant losing your own life, you would have done the impossible when the others would've given up. You just refuse to accept that _**nothing**_ depended on you. Admit it."

"I know it, Mione; I know it very well, but... I'll try... How are you and Ron?" He eagerly changed the subject.

"We're all right. We're going to go on a walking trip for several days. We both really need to relax; you know Ron has had a hard time on his training, I must admit, he works very hard, and I... Oh.., I haven't told you, have I?" she smiled with some pride on her face.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly intrigued.

"I've passed the exams and yesterday I got a letter from the University under St. Mungo's. They accepted me," she exclaimed.

"Wait... I didn't know you were going to be a mediwitch," Harry smiled, slightly confused. Hermione was hardly an impulsive person that did things all of a sudden.

"It was almost a spontaneous decision, but I'd considered it as one of my options before. It probably runs in the family," Hermione smiled again. And though she was half-joking, Harry knew what she meant. Her parents were medics, and though they were dentists, they were healers, too, anyway.

"Congratulations, Mione, they've got the best student," he said seriously.

"Thanks, Harry. Well, let's go back," she suggested, as she'd started to get cold and noticed that Harry, too, was uncomfortable with the harsh wind. When they entered the room, they heard some low humming that resembled singing very remotely. Ron was rocking already sleeping baby and quietened down, seeing that his girlfriend and best friend were looking at him with wide grins.

"Ron, were you just... singing?" Harry chuckled.

"Yes. What?" the redhead blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry, mate, but you have no ear for music."

"He doesn't care," Ron shrugged, looking down at the child. "He started crying when you left, so I sang him a lullaby; it has a few magical words that often help to calm children. Our mum sang it to us when we were little, though I don't remember the entire song."

"You'll be a great dad, Ron." Harry patted his friend on the shoulder and the redhead almost blushed again.

"Umm.. Harry," he said after a while. "Mum, dad, Bill, George and Charlie asked me to send their regards. They wanted you to know that they care about you."

"Thanks," Harry nodded, but still didn't know what to think of it. On the one hand, he doubted that his relationship with Weasley family (not including his best friend, of course), would ever be the same again after what Ginny had done. They didn't blame Harry for testifying against her, and yet, somehow he felt awkward about them. On the other hand, he still loved and respected them. He decided to give it time. It could wait, and his thoughts were too occupied with other things right now.

Ron had decided not to tell Harry about the whole conversation with his family that, at least for the time being, had really become united because of the situation with Ginny. It wasn't a secret for all of them that Harry lived with Draco and they were together as lovers. Not all the members of Ron's family were taking it well, and it had been Ron who'd told them to go on with that if they wanted to lose Harry's friendship completely. There had been a hot discussion and, in the end, everyone agreed that there'd been too much between Harry and them, and they didn't want to lose him and only wanted him to be happy. Just in case, Ron had pointed out, however, that Harry didn't require their approval at all, and his personal life was none of their concern, anyway, which earned him Hermione's most sweet and breathtaking kisses later when they'd been alone; as well as her praise and admission that she was very pleased that he'd matured so well. She had even asked his forgiveness for being unfair to him almost all their last school year, and her words were worth a lot for him.

Most Weasleys had yet no idea that Harry was not only in relationship with Malfoy, but they were family and now even had a child. Arthur knew about Draco's abduction, of course, and that the reason of that was Draco's closeness to Harry. The man, however, had had no idea about Draco's pregnancy at first, and Snape, regardless of all their conversations and then allowance to correct the shreds of Levington's weak memories, hadn't revealed his godchild's secret. But there, of course, were a lot of survivors among the Death Eaters that during their interrogations would have mentioned Draco's condition (those who knew) and his participation in the entire situation as a hostage, bait, or whatever they would have called it. The Aurors would have contacted Draco, and Snape couldn't let it happen, therefore, he had also tried to convince Arthur to let him correct their memories, too, before they'd been interrogated. Mr Weasley decided that it had been too much. He was an honest Auror and what Severus had asked, had been against the law, to say the least of it. He had already broken the law, and had no idea how in the Merlin's name Snape had managed to get him involved in crime! No matter what Snape had told him, hadn't changed his mind, and it was then when Ron had interfered and had told his father that Malfoy had been pregnant with Harry's baby and had already had enough, so any additional stress could have done him even more harm. Snape hadn't even been mad at his ex-student for his big mouth, because he'd already considered telling the whole story, employing the pity play and hinting, just slightly, that Arthur would be responsible for drastic consequences to more than one life. Arthur had been torn apart by the situation; he'd never made up the cases like that. In the end, he had closed his eyes and allowed the crime to happen for the greater good: for young Malfoy's sake and for Harry's peace of mind, feeling that he owed the boy for what his daughter had done, and Severus, of course, hadn't forgotten to mention it to dispel the other man's doubts. It had taken Snape some time to make a good work, altering the memories of all the arrested Death Eaters to make everything look unsuspicious. Meanwhile, Ron had been helping his father to make a new report that never mentioned Draco's name.

They all knew that sooner or later everyone would find out the truth, but they'd done their best to put it off. Knowing more than the others, Arthur had never reproached Ron when quite roughly his youngest son had made it clear for everyone else that he'd sided with Harry and supported his friend, as well as his choices, completely, not giving a damn what everyone thought.

Now, looking at the sleeping face of his best friend's baby son, Ron knew that it had been worth every effort and argument with his family.

The visit of his friends had put Harry in a good mood and, once they'd left, he returned to the bedroom a bit more optimistic. His son woke up again to have his evening bottle and after feeding him and changing his nappy Harry lay down beside Draco, still holding their little one. He kissed his lover's eyelids gently.

"...I thought I was going to lose you. I never had a real family, but now I have two of you, and I cherish it more than anything else. I love you, Draco, and miss you. Come back to me. Come back to us; we need you so much. Get well, love; don't make me worry like this," he whispered into Draco's ear sincerely and pressed his lips to it. He let the baby's tiny hands grasp Draco's fingers. Even if it wasn't like this, Harry liked to think that Draco could feel their touches, hear his words of love and support and their baby's voice. He wrapped his son up in a blanket and lulled him to sleep; and himself in addition. The boy was resting on Harry's chest, probably feeling comfortable when it was raising and falling rhythmically and smoothly, as Harry was breathing in his sleep. He usually didn't sleep in bed with Draco since the blond was ill and was on post-operative recovery, so it seemed wrong to disturb him like this, not including the first day of his unconscious state when Harry had just lain down next to him without thinking; now the sleep had simply overpowered Harry and all three of them were resting in one bed.

He became aware of the strong feeling of hollowness, loneliness and loss, like something had been taken away from him, perhaps even a part of his soul. Why was he _**this**_ hollow? Draco tried his best to think, to remember, to move. He didn't know for how long this desperate fight lasted, but, eventually, he felt that the control was slowly coming back, and he stopped feeling the periodically coming sensation of a free fall. He even felt that his leg twitched slightly and briefly, just like it sometimes happened to those who were falling asleep, which could often make them jerk awake. Soft whirlwind of incoherent thoughts pacified a little, as he concentrated on his breathing and realised that something was wrong with it. It took some time to understand that he was under the spell that was slightly forcing him to breathe and probably filtered the air. _'Was it __**that**__ bad, so they had to cast it on me?'_ he thought dimly. Slowly he opened his eyes, but was unsure if he had enough strength to move. He seemed to be all alone in the room, but he didn't mind. And then he felt some unpleasant and tight sensation in his lower stomach, and decided to look what was wrong with it. Carefully he threw the quilt back and pulled his nightshirt up, trying to deal with the weakness and soreness of his entire body that was slightly reluctant to obey him. His heart and stomach clenched when he saw a very sensitive, reddened magical stitch from his navel down to his groin. He had a little cry over it; scared and confused. He'd really hoped that it wouldn't be necessary to cut him open, he'd felt uneasy even thinking about such possibility; but, to his dismay, it appeared, it had been unavoidable. For some reason, he remembered Levington with the sharp knife in her merciless hand, and the way she had pressed the blade to his belly. He shuddered at the memory and cast it away. On the other hand, he remembered that his child had almost been delivered before he'd had a lapse of memory, which meant he'd blacked out. Why had Pomfrey (who else?) cut him open then? But what troubled him most right now was his son's fate. He was terrified, thinking that his little one possibly hadn't survived the delivery. It made Draco panic. In spite of the soreness and dimness of mind, he tried to get up and it took time and a lot of efforts. He felt dizzy, and the magically stitched wound stung like hell. He _**hurt**_ inside... Pain and worry were enough to make him weep again and he was on the verge of breaking down completely. The feeling of hollowness contributed to it, as he was feeling both hunger and the lack of the familiar heaviness of his baby. Tears ran down his distorted with pain face. Hardly standing on his feet, rather disoriented at first, he moved to the door, but stopped halfway, seeing a familiar baby's cot right there in the bedroom. Wondering why it was in the bedroom, he approached it anxiously, but slowly. The child was there... For good five minutes he stood there, looking at the napping infant, and at first he couldn't believe that the baby was his. Well, he could believe, but he'd got used to feel him inside, and now that he could finally see him, it seemed unreal. It was hardly surprising, given that he hadn't had a chance to see him right after birth. He'd even forgotten that he was in pain, enchanted by the sight of his long-awaited son. Soon the baby's eyes opened and looked back at Draco or past him. Judging by the bowlegs and smallness of the child, Draco decided that he hadn't been unconscious for too long (not for months for sure). He pulled the small blanket down and the baby's light shirt up to check his navel carefully. He saw that there was even no bellybutton yet; there was just a short, dried umbilical stump. Draco tried his best to put his thoughts in order and remember what he'd read in books about it. Since the stump was still there, it meant that it had been only days, a week, maybe, but not longer than that, fortunately. No, his infant still looked like a newborn, and Draco's stitch felt and looked very new as well, so he, hopefully, hadn't missed much. The child slowly spat the dummy out of his mouth, but didn't cry. There were only small noises that filled Draco's chest with tenderness. He took a small, delicate fist in his hand, brushed the small face with his fingertips, and then carefully took his softly gurgling infant in his arms and cradled him. _'I missed you so much,'_ he thought, looking down. He couldn't speak because of the spell that helped him to breathe, but he hardly cared, anyway. It wasn't easy to get back into bed and he was extra careful, because he took a child with him and because, despite the sea of emotions he felt, the pain was still there, he just didn't pay much attention to it, and this time the pain wasn't the reason of the tear that rolled down his face. His son's presence, however, pacified him, because everything about his little boy felt warm and dear to him.

Harry quietly entered the room. The baby had been sleeping when Harry had left to have breakfast on the first floor of the house, and since it was still quiet, he decided that the child hadn't woken up yet. But when he came closer to the cot, he nearly gasped, as he saw that his son wasn't there. Snape was downstairs and no one else could take the baby. Confused he looked around and noticed that something was different. Last time he'd left the room Draco had been lying on his back on the right half of the bed. Now he was in the different position on the other half. Harry approached and grinned widely when he saw the breathtaking sight: both Draco and the baby were wrapped up in the cocoon of the warm quilt, and asleep. Pomfrey had warned him that Draco was going to wake up today; Harry just hadn't expected it would happen this early. Draco was lying curled up on his side; their son was almost on his back, safely pressed to his father's upper chest and held by his lean, but protective arm, wrapped around the small baby's body under the blanket. Draco's pink delicate lips were nearly touching the child's temple. Harry came closer and gently kissed his both blonds. He wondered how Draco had managed to get up and take the baby, in the first place; he must have been in pain. Silently Harry joined them in bed, making sure not to disturb them.

He kept looking at his beautiful family and finally saw Draco opening his sleepy eyes. Harry knew that Draco needed a pain-relieving potion as soon as possible, and was ready to see a pained expression, but the blond seemed to be too sleepy to really feel the pain yet. Draco smiled softly and drowsily, seeing his lover in front of him and their son, still in the warm safety of his arms. Harry touched Draco's face gently and the blond leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in contentment.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.

**N/A: I must apologise; the story will be updated the day after tomorrow in usual time or maybe a bit sooner. I have the next chapter ready, but I want to improve it slightly. Sorry!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

Evil Concubine


	23. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.**

Sun (Thank you!), Magebane (Thanks! I'm very flattered :) ), Aquarinus (Thanks a lot! Indeed, I wanted to show that Draco thought about Harry back then and even waited for him. Glad I gave you the answers :) ), WriteAtNight (Thank you!), kitty tokyo uzumaki (Please, enjoy!), Yamiga (Thanks! I'm so glad you enjoyed it that much :) ), ItachiMer (Of course it's going to be posted there! :) You can enjoy seeing him ;) ), Lilyth (Thanks!), lostsouloftheunderworld (Hehe! Yes, ninjas would be great and quiet :). Thanks so much for reviewing again!), Serpent Charmer (Thank you very much!), Bookwoman17NerdyMom (Glad you liked :). Thank _**you**_.), Arcania (Thanks! I'm happy you enjoyed it!), Cyanide Rose (Please, enjoy the next one. And thank you so much for your kind words :) ).

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><p><em><strong>Epilogue<strong>_

Draco hated to wake up this early in the morning, but today was a special day and he forced himself to open his eyes after several moments of stretching his limbs and sighing. He sat up. His long-time lover was sound asleep beside him. Draco kissed his neck and tried to shake him awake softly. The little sleepy moan was all he'd managed to achieve. He smiled; he knew the perfect way to wake Harry up and was very eager to perform it, especially with the morning erection he possessed right now.

Still not entirely awoken, Harry, nevertheless, was moaning at the kisses of the lips: pink, sweet and wet, that made their way down to his groin...

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><p>Don't follow the link if you're not 18 yet:<p>

http (colon) (double slash) hp . adult fanfiction . net (slash) story . php ? no (equals sign) 600093977 (ampersand) chapter (equals sign) 23

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><p>...Sighing in contentment, he rested himself on Draco, making sure he wasn't making him uncomfortable.<p>

"Time to get up, love. You know that, even if you were saving the world all night long, it wouldn't be a sufficient excuse for him," Draco said several minutes later.

"I need a holiday..." Harry sighed.

"Then it's time to take one."

"I will. All right, let's go take a shower first..."

Harry returned to the bedroom, leaving Draco to preen himself in the bathroom as he did every morning. Harry dried and dressed himself quickly. Before leaving the room he cast a glance at his bedside table where the framed photograph of his family was, - his favourite picture; the one he had both at home and at work. The picture showed Draco approaching their son, who was almost two years old at the moment this picture had been taken, to feed him. But, instead of eating, the toddler took the spoon out of Draco's hand and started to spoon-feed his daddy with his own cereal. The boy was squeaking and cooing happily (of course, the picture didn't allow hearing it, but Harry remembered the sounds), because Draco was playing along, letting their little one feed him and smear the cereal on his nose in the process.

Memories of the past years made Harry's mind wander.

Not everything was perfect between Harry and Draco.

For some time Harry was obsessed with keeping his family safe, even though he was going to extremes sometimes. After what Medea Levington had done to them he was taking care of the family's protection anxiously. He never let Draco go to Wizarding London, or anywhere else, alone. Every time he was squeezing Draco's hand with his left one and his own wand with his right, in case anyone would try to hurt his love or their child. Or, at least, he made sure that Snape was there with Draco and the little one. He'd also become the terror of all the remained Death Eaters, and everyone knew him as ruthless Auror, because they all, as he believed, were a potential threat to his family. He even learned the art of both Legilimency and Occlumency after pestering Snape for enough time and promising to endure anything this time and never voice a single complain if the man agreed to teach him. The older wizard had agreed in the end.

Sometimes it was scaring Draco, and they even argued about it. Harry knew he was hurting him and this wasn't what he wanted at all, so after some time he calmed down and relaxed a little, as he'd stopped seeing a threat to his loved ones in every shadow. Ron, who was his partner, helped a lot, too, and was looking after him, especially after the conversation with Draco, who made him really look at what Harry was doing, being on the verge of becoming a monster. Hermione, too, made him see it.

There were also a lot of stupid rumours about their personal life. Harry had once given an interview to the trusted reporter, without any details letting people know that he and Draco had a son. He'd known it was better to do it while Narcissus was still little. He hadn't given much information, of course. The world had gone crazy at first. There were a lot of articles in the papers where reporters had let their imagination break loose. The most popular version was that Harry had been bewitched again, and Draco had set the pregnancy up to get their hero for himself.

Harry never allowed anything like that to hurt Draco. He fought the war with press media, he got several especially bold reporters condemned by a court. He and Snape never allowed any unfamiliar owls to get to Draco. Many birds were cursed by Snape in order to make them come back to their owners sick with temporary madness and peck and scratch the terrified fools insanely. Harry never allowed any scowling glances at Draco and their baby, though Draco had a _**very**_ infrequent desire to go to the places full of people. Harry's deep and threatening stares made people turn their eyes down. He was making a good job, protecting his loved ones. No one in their right mind would try to tell Draco anything disdainful or even approach him at all. The uproar gradually calmed down, the news became old, and they were almost left alone.

About a year after Ginny's discharge, she, depressed and worn out by the prison, tried to speak to Harry, sending him a letter in which she asked him if he could meet her 'just for a short talk'. Harry wasn't enthusiastic about it at all. He left a letter on his table and forgot about it. It was Draco who found it accidentally. Harry knew that Draco had a very vivid imagination sometimes, but when the letter was thrown at his face and Draco suggested his own version of events, Harry was speechless at first. He was accused of lies, because he hadn't told Draco about the letter. The brunet's assurances that he simply hadn't found it important and later had just forgotten about it, didn't work. He was accused of meeting her behind Draco's back, though Harry quickly managed to convince Draco that he was wrong. The blond used the silencing charm to make sure their little boy, who was only two and a half years old, couldn't hear him shouting. He made it perfectly clear that he would _**never**_ forgive Harry if Harry decided to meet the bitch, no matter why she wanted to see him. He was absolutely positive that she would do something to take Harry away from his family. He was absolutely sure that she was plotting something behind their backs again, and with his own suspicions he reduced himself to tears. Harry couldn't even get angry at him for having doubts in him as he saw those tears. No, he wasn't about to let the ghosts of his past upset Draco.

Ironically, the very same day Ginny firecalled. Worked up as hell, Draco answered before Harry had a chance, and he made sure that all Weasleys who were at home could hear him, not only the bitch. He was hissing and growling that he wouldn't allow her to ruin his family. He swore that he would tear the bitch apart with his bare hands if she approached Harry or their child, or tried to contact them again in any possible way. Harry didn't know what to do. Draco was so mad that Harry was almost sure there were fireworks of sparks coming out of Weasley's fireplace, risking setting their house on fire. Draco swore that only through his dead body Harry would take the child to the Burrow while the bitch lived there.

Sometimes Harry, indeed, took the child with him when he visited Weasleys, but not very often. Draco visited their house even more rarely and just for Harry. He didn't like them and he didn't like the way some of them looked at him covertly sometimes. They just tolerated each other. It was better with Ron and Hermione, though. Notwithstanding the fact that they weren't friends, Draco was very civil to them, could play chess with Ron, talk to him and Hermione, who soon became Weasley, too. They were considered as friends of a family. But with other Weasleys Draco felt uncomfortable. He didn't really like when any of them took his son in their arms, though they liked the child very much and meant well, because he was Harry's. Draco was glad that Narcissus wasn't very fond of being held by anyone except for the people with whom he lived in the same house, and often showed his discomfort. Draco was also glad that his boy looked a lot like him even though he had enough of Harry's features. It wasn't going to let Weasleys forget that the boy was Draco's, too, no matter if they liked it or not. And now that their bitch of a daughter and sister was living with them, Draco wasn't going to keep quiet anymore.

Thankfully, Ginny soon found the flat away from everyone who knew her, and Harry didn't get any letters or firecalls from her anymore. Sometimes they saw each other in the Burrow, but never spoke to each other directly.

All of it was quite short moments of distress in their life. Mostly Draco and Harry could be called a happy couple.

There was a thing that Harry was afraid of at first; it was the thought that he wasn't a good father. He'd had no parents to show him how to raise a child properly, after all. And then he found out that Draco had the same fear; although he'd had a loving mother, he was afraid to do something that would hurt their child, just like Lucius had hurt him with his coldness when Draco had been little. But very soon they realised that their fears were groundless: their baby was growing, smiling at them happily, since he was able to do it consciously, reaching his tiny hands to them, loving both of them dearly, even if they made usual, small human mistakes. Later when Narcissus was learning to walk, he was running to Harry, stumbling on the way and nearly falling, just to embrace him happily when Harry was coming home from work. He looked like a happy boy, who loved his parents, respected them, but wasn't afraid of them. Both Harry and Draco were relieved that everything was turning out better than they had imagined. In some way Narcissus was a compensation to both of his parents for the things that had been stolen from each of them due to the war, or even for the things they both had never had. They loved him very much and he was growing up aware of it.

Draco wasn't too over-sweet with him. Piggyback rides or snowball playing weren't his cup of tea; but teaching his boy and playing calm games even when they took a lot of time, was the pastime both he and his son enjoyed.

Narcissus was in good terms with Severus. The little child definitely melted at the sound of Severus' voice that always made him listen carefully, no matter what the man was talking about. Thanks to Florie and, in some way, to Draco, he was calling the man grandfather. At first Severus scowled and grumbled, and tried his best to make the little boy stop calling him that, but then he finally gave up, because all attempts to break the quickly formed habit were useless.

Severus and Draco often worked with potions together and had inventions that had become very popular in the wizarding world. When the boy was almost six, he developed an interest for potion-making, too. Making sure the fumes of the potion that Severus was brewing weren't harmful in any way, the man allowed the persistent child to watch. It was actually the first time Narcissus really became incredibly interested. Not only Severus allowed him to put the eyes of some exotic fishes into the cauldron (fishes, which name the boy would have hardly able to pronounce correctly, yet), but the man also allowed him to stir the potion, instructing him in the process how to do it properly. It was enough to make Narcissus so interested that every two minutes he asked if the potion was ready, as if it was completely his brewing and he had to monitor it carefully. He was swelling with pride for days after that, informing both of his fathers about his success and announcing during the dinner that he was surely going to become a potion-maker, not just an Auror like one of his dads, and he would just have to combine those two jobs, which he believed wasn't hard.

When he was almost ten, he became very interested in the history of his family: both Harry's and Draco's ancestors. It was then when Draco decided to show him the abandoned Manor, but not before it was purified from all the traces of the foul magic, left after Voldemort and his followers. Harry's colleagues helped with purification and several days later Draco, Harry and their son visited it together. Once inside of the magnificent building, the boy was just awed. He liked it from the start. The elves bawled for hours with loud heartbreaking wails and even Draco didn't know what to do, because they didn't stop crying even when he ordered them to. Instead, they promised him to punish themselves for disobedience later. Draco rolled his eyes at this. But they weren't crying because of grief or anything like that; on the contrary, little creatures were beyond themselves with happiness, because until that day they'd thought that they'd lost their family forever, since master Draco didn't want to live there anymore. They knew the reason, of course. They remembered how scared, subdued and sick the young heir had been in his own home when the frightening guest had crossed the threshold.

All elves looked terrible and tired, because they'd spent too much time grieving for the lost masters and meaning of life. If they hadn't had the Manor to take care of, though it didn't require much care now, they would have probably already died in misery. With the new heir they had a hope. Harry watched the scene with amusement. The elves surrounded the youngest master and showed him their humble respect, as well as cooing over him not unlike Florie, who was crazy about him, often did. One of them gladly kneeled and tied the boy's shoe laces; the other one brought him some hot chocolate, though the same was delivered to Draco and Harry. In the end, the fussing bunch of creatures literally dragged the perplexed boy away to show him the Manor and all its wonders, beauty and magnificence, just to make him interested enough to once and for all convince him to live there, at least, when he would be old enough to live apart from his fathers. Draco and Harry didn't really mind, though they weren't ready to think about living apart from their child. He was still too young, anyway. Draco couldn't help but feel proud. What his father had done didn't mean he, Draco, wasn't a descendant of great, powerful wizards and a member of the ancient family. He respected it, despite Lucius' deeds, and Narcissus' willingness to be a part of it was something that made Draco feel a bit more content.

But it was hardly the time for nostalgia, and Harry remembered that today was the very important day. Smiling, he silently entered Narcissus' bedroom, approached the bed and opened its light curtains. His boy was sleeping soundly. There was a new schoolbook on the History of Magic in his bed. On one of the pillows near the boy's head was the small curled up and sleeping Hungarian Horntail - the miniature replica of the dragon that Harry had faced during his first task on the Triwizard Tournament. It was the replica he'd retrieved when he and his opponents had been drawing lots. As Narcissus had first seen it, when he was younger, he had been looking at his daddy with such plea on his face that Harry had quickly given up and let him have the dragon. It shifted on its soft pillow a little and yawned without opening its eyes, but then curled up into even a tighter ball to continue sleeping.

One boy's foot was stuck out from under the blanket. For Harry it still seemed very small. He tickled it gently with his fingertips. The displeased boy mumbled something in his sleep and hid his foot under the quilt. He also covered his blond head.

"Come on, kitten. It's time to wake up."

"Dad... Are you sure it's today?" was the sleepy moan.

"Absolutely. What is it? You were so excited about the trip to Hogwarts yesterday. Have you lost all the enthusiasm already?" Harry teased.

"Maybe I was too excited and fell asleep too late," the boy sighed.

"I'm sorry, love."

"I'm getting up..."

"You better be or our daddy will be very displeased with both of us."

"How is he today? Is he feeling alright?"

"Yes, he looks quite... um... cheerful, in spite of the early hour," Harry smiled. He chuckled to himself, remembering how cheerful Draco had looked, straddling him when Harry had opened his eyes.

"Good. I still can't forget how he fainted several days ago," the boy confessed quietly.

"Oh, Narcissus... Don't worry. We told you he'd be okay," Harry replied softly, patting his shoulder through the quilt. "Come on, get up. We're waiting for you downstairs."

After taking a shower and dressing himself, the boy came down to the dining room. He was greeted and given some presents, since it was an important day for all of them, so everyone tried to make it even happier for him, a day to remember. There were even several parcels from the friends of the family. During the breakfast his father (Draco) felt a bit sick again. He hardly ate. But a cup of peppermint tea made him feel a little better. They all were hiding something from Narcissus, he just knew it. One of his fathers was ill and they kept telling him that he was fine. He suddenly felt very insecure about Hogwarts. He'd be far away from home when father was so unwell. Even grandfather wouldn't be here.

They all had been pressing Severus hard for nearly a year, trying to convince him to teach again during Narcissus' forthcoming school years. The man had been fighting them furiously and desperately, but there were too many of them against him, so he'd agreed, at last. To his disgust Minerva McGonagall had squealed (!) when he'd asked her if he could take a job of a teacher of either Potions or DADA. She'd said that the woman, who'd been teaching potions for the last several years, wasn't very qualified as a potion-maker (being a kind teacher, friendly with children, wasn't enough at all), so McGonagall was utterly happy to replace her with him. Narcissus had been beyond himself with joy when he'd found out. Not only his grandfather was going to teach him, there was a strong probability that the man was going to be a head of his house. Narcissus was absolutely positive that he was going to be a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, like his fathers and grandfather. He didn't really care which one he'd be sorted into; both seemed exciting.

But right now he was concerned about one of his parents' health. Father had often been looking sick lately, especially in the morning, and he had no appetite. And nearly a week ago he'd suddenly fainted in the living room. Narcissus knew very well that father had some heart problems, but for the last few years he'd been mostly all right, almost healthy. Seeing his father deathly pale on the floor and thinking that he was dead had horrified Narcissus and he'd started wailing and screaming, which had probably been heard throughout the entire big house. It had made everyone run like hell to see what was going on, since no one had ever heard him crying like this. Even though Severus had revived Draco rather quickly, carefully putting him on the canapé and simply casting 'Rennervate', it had taken about an hour to calm Narcissus down. Thankfully, Harry had been there for him and Draco had joined, too, promising that he was all right, that there was nothing terrible. Both fathers had hugged him and soothed him until he'd stopped weeping. The next day when father (Harry) had gone to work early in the morning, Narcissus had sneaked into the bedroom of his parents and lain behind his other father close to him, just to look after him, to make sure that they'd told him the truth and father wasn't in any pain, looked and breathed normally. He knew it was wrong to sleep beside his parents, he was a big boy, but he liked to think that he controlled something and he would be there in case his father felt sick again.

He'd remembered how Draco sometimes had been unwell, when Narcissus had been very little; five years old or just a bit older. It hadn't been often, though. He'd managed to remember only two times. He'd remembered how worried he'd been that daddy had been ill and had to keep to bed, though he hadn't looked really ill, just tired. When he'd asked his other daddy, wishing to find out what was wrong, Harry had explained that Draco's heart hurt, but he'd recover soon and there'd been nothing terrible. Draco had smiled at his little boy to confirm Harry's words. A small hand had pressed to Draco's aching heart and Narcissus had felt its beating against his palm. He'd liked the feeling very much. When father had been asleep during his rest cure, Narcissus had done it several times to have this feeling against his palm again. Doing it, he'd mentally wished father to get well soon, so the pain would go away. He'd even pressed his ear against father's chest and listened.

Now, several years later he'd done it again, though somehow doubted that this time the problem concerned father's heart. In the end, he'd warmed up to the sleeping form and had fallen asleep, too. He'd blushed slightly, waking up several hours later and seeing his father's smiling face, which had looked pretty healthy and rested. Narcissus hadn't been reproached for sleeping in the bed of his parents at all. Draco had embraced him warmly and asked Florie to bring them breakfast in bed, as he'd decided that they could laze about until the afternoon. As Narcissus had gladly noticed, father had even eaten his breakfast without looking dizzy or running to the bathroom, though he'd been eating slowly. After the breakfast they'd been reading an adventure book together, still warm and content in the bed. All of it had made Narcissus think that he'd really had nothing to worry about, but the next morning father hadn't been feeling well again.

And now both Severus and Narcissus were leaving. Thankfully, his father (Harry) was taking a holiday, so he would take care of Narcissus' other father. And yet, the boy couldn't stop worrying.

The platform was full of children and their parents. Most faces were cheerful, but several children were crying, as they were soon going to be apart from their parents and siblings. Narcissus frowned; he had more reasons to cry, but he wasn't going to let himself do it, especially in front of the strangers.

"I want to ask you to promise me something," he said seriously, looking up at his attentive parents, right into their eyes.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"If something happens, anything, I want to know as soon as possible. And you know what I'm talking about," he frowned slightly again.

"Darling, I promise you," Draco said softly, but seriously. "And I promise that there's nothing for you to worry about. Don't let anything ruin this day for you."

"You, too, write us about everything interesting or not very interesting. We want to know all about your craziest adventures," the other father smiled.

"Yes, and I hope that those adventures will only consist of good marks and outstanding discipline," Draco said sternly, looking rather at Harry than their son. Both Harry and Narcissus chuckled and Harry winked at the boy.

"Don't worry about anything; grandfather's going to look after you, especially if you'll end up in Slytherin, and even if you won't. In Gryffindor there's always Teddy. He'll keep an eye on you, too," he said.

"I'm not a baby," the boy mumbled. Ted Lupin and Narcissus were in good terms with each other. Narcissus even considered the older boy as a second best friend. His best friend Olympus Goyle was, unfortunately, going to Durmstrang along with his annoying twin brother. Everyone was quite surprised that Narcissus was getting along with one twin so well and was nearly at war with the other one, even though both chubby boys looked identical and other people could swear they had similar traces of character. Narcissus disagreed and could easily distinguish his best friend from his rival.

"By the way, I wonder where he is," Harry said thoughtfully, looking around in search for his godson.

"I saw him and Mrs Tonks somewhere around. She was lecturing him," the boy replied.

"Maybe you could have some lecturing, too?" Harry smiled.

"No way," Narcissus chuckled.

They hugged him warmly and let him go even though it wasn't easy for them to do. But once their boy entered Hogwarts Express, they smiled to each other and exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Quickly they hid behind the column, looking around to make sure no one was watching. In the twinkling of an eye, Harry covered them both with his invisibility cloak, and invisible to everyone's eyes, they followed their child.

Narcissus entered one of the compartments, still not entirely occupied. His long goodbyes with his dads hadn't left him many free seats in the train and he still hadn't found Ted. In this compartment were three children of the same age as he was.

"Hello. May I join?" he asked. One of the boys scowled at him. "I'm Narcissus Malfoy-Potter," Narcissus introduced himself, hoping to release some tension.

"I know who you are. Malfoy's abomination," the same scowling boy answered scornfully. Meanwhile, under the invisibility cloak Draco stiffened against Harry and hanged his head in dismay. His boy was going to be a pariah just as he was. He felt Harry's hand squeezing his own, and the other one rubbed his back soothingly.

"Abomination?" Narcissus raised his blond eyebrow.

"Yes, abomination. A freak," the bully continued. This time it was Harry who tensed inside. It was the 'nickname' he'd had throughout his entire childhood, but his son wasn't going to have it, too! "You were born from two men. It's disgusting."

"Oh, I don't know. One of my fathers is a hero of this world, because he saved it; he's one of the most powerful and respected wizards, and the world worships him. His birthday is the national holiday, at least, in Britain, as well as the day of his victory. My other father is the descendant of one of the most powerful families since the time of Merlin. He even saved my other father once during the war. And you're... Who?" Narcissus drawled with slight disdain. "But don't bother to introduce yourself. I remember you. I've seen your picture in the paper. Some scandalous article, though I don't normally read anything like that. Your surname is Greenspire, right? Trust me, having two great fathers is much better than being fatherless. If I heard right, you haven't even seen yours. And even worse, your mother isn't sure who exactly your father was; for that reason she was disowned by your grandparents. You have my sympathy." He inclined his head in mock respect and then his nose was up in the air, his back always straight. Harry gasped quietly. The furious boy gave Narcissus a murderous look and stormed out of the compartment, nearly running into Harry and Draco. But both men moved away right in time. The other boys laughed behind the bully's back. Narcissus was glad about it, because he didn't know them at all, so he wouldn't be able to respond so well if they tried to taunt him, too.

"We've spoiled him. Terribly," Harry whispered into his lover's ear and kissed it.

"No, he's a good boy with dignity. And courageous enough to stand up for himself and for us."

"Your approval scares me a bit, love. But I'm happy that he doesn't let anyone hurt him. By the way, he just reminded me some very sarcastic and arrogant boy. I even think I saw a little too familiar sneer," the brunet purred.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco shook his head, hardly able to hold back a smirk.

The boys' smiles were actually good-natured when they looked at Narcissus, as he took a seat. When all the boys introduced themselves to each other and shook their hands, Harry and Draco sighed in relief. The train started off. They decided to leave their boy with his new acquaintances, with whom he seemed to be quite relaxed.

Very soon Draco felt nauseous and they both had to lock themselves up in one of the train toilets.

"Oh, Merlin... How could I forget my potion at home?" Draco moaned between the gags as he vomited. "Don't look at me..."

"Baby, for how many years we've been together? I'm sure I can survive seeing your morning sickness," Harry replied softly, holding his lover's hair and rubbing his back. When there was nothing left in Draco's stomach to get rid of, he washed his face, cleaned his mouth and drank some water, but not too much. And then he was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to Harry's chest. Harry was rubbing his stomach softly.

"Better?" he asked.

"Still a bit sick."

"I have some mint sweets. Would it help?" Harry asked, retrieving the small, round, blue metal box out of his pocket.

"It might..."

As Draco was enjoying the taste of mint, which made him feel better, Harry kept caressing his still flat belly.

"Love, we have to tell Narcissus. He's so worried about you," he said.

"I know..." the blond sighed. "I'm going to start showing soon. Very soon. I believe it would be wise to inform him when he'll be home for his birthday. Though, I'm quite worried about his reaction. I think it's best to talk to him after his party. I don't want him to be upset on his birthday," Draco said. Narcissus' birthday was in a little more than a month and a half and Draco's condition was going to be noticeable then.

"Why do you think he's going to be upset?" Harry was a bit surprised. When Draco had said before that he wasn't ready to talk about it with their son yet, Harry hadn't thought that the reason was an anticipation of some negative reaction.

"Harry, you must be joking, right? This boy is jealous as hell. He hates seeing us with any other children. Remember that little girl on the children's playground, who was very eager to talk and play with us, because she said you resembled her father? Later, the very same day, our sullen sweetheart took a handful of his porridge and threw it in my face, and then he refused to talk to both of us for days!"

"I remember, but he was four years old, Draco. Surely he's grown up since then."

"I don't know, Harry..."

"Well, maybe he won't be oh-so-happy at first, but he'll come around. It's his brother or sister, after all. And we won't let him feel abandoned anyway."

"Of course. And we'll also have to give him more um... details about the way he came into this world."

"Yes, right... I believe 'daddy and... daddy loved each other so much that you just appeared out of nowhere as their fruit of love', or something like that, won't do any longer," Harry chuckled. Of course, it was an exaggeration, but Narcissus wasn't quite informed about the whole story of his birth, and when he'd been told that Draco had actually carried him in his belly and had been shown pictures where one of his fathers possessed quite a round tummy, he was confused, because he couldn't comprehend how he'd even got into it, in the first place, since Draco was undoubtedly a man. He'd only been explained that it was a very rare case. But he'd been only seven years old then, and now it wasn't enough.

"At least, he knows that we're both his biological fathers. I'd be upset if he thought that he was related to only one of us," Draco sighed.

"Of course, he never doubts that both of us are his real parents. Why do you even think about it? He's very smart. It's enough for him to look in the mirror. Even if he has the colour of your hair and eyes, well, very close to yours, he has my features, too. And he's very curious, so I'm sure he knows more than we think he knows. And you know that he saw pictures of you, very obviously, pregnant with him. He knows that we weren't lying to him; he just doesn't know the entire story. He's old enough to hear it."

"You're right..." Draco agreed.

No one had expected him to get pregnant again, all of a sudden, especially after almost twelve years. No one had expected him to develop a new set of required organs to carry a child after removal of those that he'd had, carrying Narcissus. No one could explain it. They only thought it was some side effect of the potions that Lucius had stuffed him with.

This new pregnancy had confused Draco immensely, though, of course, it hadn't been as shocking as finding out about his first one. He loved Narcissus selflessly; would die or kill for him. But except for his son, he wasn't very fond of children in general, whereas Harry was nearly crazy about them. Draco just couldn't portray himself as a part of a big family, couldn't imagine the constant hubbub several children would create in the house where he lived. His boy was never too noisy. Draco had only tolerated Narcissus' children's parties (which he'd called the wild covens), because it was for his son, even when his head had been nearly exploding from all the noise, but... another child in the house... He hadn't known what to think at first, and while Harry was beaming with happiness, Draco had been thoughtful. On the other hand, Narcissus was almost twelve and, to Draco's slight dismay, didn't need really much care anymore.

Harry was very supportive. He'd convinced his confused lover that it was not like it had been with Narcissus. Draco had only been eighteen when he'd got pregnant with him, his health had been quite weak, he'd been uncertain about his own and his baby's future, and Harry hadn't been there for him most of the pregnancy. Now it was different, and Draco was healthier, older and had more care and support. In the end, Draco had found himself loving this other baby. Now he only worried about Narcissus' reaction. He didn't want his precious and loved son to feel abandoned.

Hermione, who'd become a mediwitch several years ago and worked in St. Mungo's, had asked them to let her observe Draco's pregnancy with the participation of Madam Pomfrey, of course, who was more experienced. No, she hadn't just asked, she'd begged. In addition to his pregnancy she was very attentive to his health, especially his heart; she was a professional and he knew he could trust her. Draco only hoped that she would soon finally be able to hold back that annoying cooing she emitted every time she examined him and saw his baby. Goodness, she had her own two children and, with all her seriousness, still behaved like some healer's apprentice when she saw a tiny part of her best friend in Draco! The fact that he was a pregnant male was also making her very interested, though personally he thought that her fussing was excessive. At first he'd been feeling a little uncomfortable about the fact that she was his mediwitch and would assist in delivery, but then he'd put up with it. She was crazy about Narcissus, and both Harry and Draco already knew she'd be just as crazy about their new baby (she already was).

Most of the way they stayed in the toilet. It was locked, so no one could enter, though a couple of times some children tried to open it and asked if anyone was there. There was no reply, so they'd just decided that it was closed, being out of order, so they left to find the other one. Draco's nausea had abated and he relaxed against his lover; he even napped for some time.

It wasn't easy to do it unnoticed, but they managed to occupy one of the enchanted boats when all the first year students had taken their places in all the other boats. No one paid attention to the seemingly empty boat where Harry and Draco were hiding under the cloak. They enjoyed the way to the castle across the Black Lake, feeling nostalgic, though Draco would have preferred the boat to be a bit steadier, as it was rocking slightly, making him feel dizzy again. He gladly took some more mint sweets in his mouth.

It seemed, the castle itself recognised Harry and let him in without any problems, along with Draco. Harry had expected it, but in his thoughts he'd had other scenarios of getting in Hogwarts in case the easiest way wouldn't have worked. They were walking carefully behind the crowd of the students, often unconsciously looking for the blond head of their boy.

They didn't pay much attention to the headmistress' speech. When the Sorting Ceremony had begun, they were thrilled, just as most people in the Great Hall. There were a lot of new students, so it took some time before Narcissus was summoned.

"Interesting... Very interesting. A son of two such different people. I remember them so well," the Hat murmured.

"Draco, it's just me or he looks a bit worried?" Harry whispered, looking at their son carefully.

"I think he's indeed worried," Draco confirmed.

"I see you in RAVENCLAW!" the Hat exclaimed. The Ravenclaw table applauded cheerfully to their new student, but they quietened down a bit when everyone noticed the look on Narcissus' face. He was disappointed, to say the least of it. He turned his face to the head table and looked at his grandfather desperately. Severus just made a helpless gesture with his hands. Very upset and with the obvious vexation on his face, Narcissus reluctantly headed to the table of his house.

"Oh, no..." Harry gasped, seeing that his boy was on the verge of tears. He knew, Narcissus wouldn't cry in front of the other people, and he still was a picture of dignity, but he was very upset. Since he'd been very young and had been told about Hogwarts and its houses he'd had no doubt that he would be a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. He hadn't been ready for any other possibilities. Even worse, Harry had told him that the Hat could take the students' opinion into account, so the boy hadn't been anxious, having only two possibilities in his thoughts: Gryffindor or Slytherin; both were good. And now his very first day was completely ruined.

While his both fathers were worried about his reaction, they weren't noticing a tabby cat, sneaking up to them, as her instincts had allowed her to notice that there was someone else, someone who couldn't be easily seen. When her paw touched the invisible fabric, she hooked it on with her claws and pulled it quickly enough not to give two distracted people any chances to hold it in place. Harry and Draco hadn't expected it. Perplexedly they looked at the cat that had revealed them. She transformed back into the human from.

"...Headmistress," Harry greeted her. What else could he do? Draco greeted her as well. The entire Great Hall fell silent and was looking at them.

"Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter. I should have guessed that the rules would be broken again this year, since it's about you two," McGonagall said sternly. Severus wasn't a bit surprised. He'd suspected that two of them had been up to something.

"What are you doing here?" their confused son asked when he approached them, so the other students wouldn't be able to hear them.

"We just wanted to watch the Ceremony," Harry replied.

"Well, as you can see, it didn't go well," the boy pouted.

"Ah... Headmistress, excuse us," Draco asked. "Could you give us fifteen minutes, please? And then we'll remove ourselves from the school grounds."

"Ten minutes," she frowned. She distracted the others by renewing the Ceremony.

"Hey. Don't be upset, angel. Ravenclaw is a good house," Harry said, coming closer to Narcissus, who didn't look convinced.

"Even Sapphiren, one of the boys I met in the train, is in Slytherin now, though he doesn't look like Slytherin at all. Now I'll have to gain the points for the house I don't even like. Only being a Hufflepuff is worse than this. Take me home. I'd rather be in Durmstrang with Olympus," Narcissus said grimly. His fathers were quite upset by his words.

"Darling, don't be sad," Draco said softly, touching the blond head, just slightly darker than his own. "I promise it'll get better. I'm sure you'll make a lot of good friends in Ravenclaw. Severus is here with you and you can always come to him. Ted is your friend, no matter what. Things are not always going according to our plans, but it's not the end of the world. It's not that bad in Ravenclaw, I'm sure of it. Do something for me, will you; find as much information as you can about Ravenclaw, something you've never read before. I'm sure you'll be intrigued. Use the library and ask your older housemates to share some interesting facts about the house and its founder."

"What's so interesting about her? Some skirt..." the boy grumbled.

"Narcissus," Draco said strictly, but without raising his voice.

"Sorry, father. I promise. But I don't promise it'll change my mind."

"I do not demand you to change your opinion. I'm just asking you to give it a try. I'll be waiting for your letter, full of interesting things you'll find out," Draco said. Harry thought that it was a good move. If their boy was indeed a Ravenclaw, and the Hat had obviously had no doubt about it, he would be head over heels absorbed in a very Ravenclawish thing - _**research**_, and would soon realise that it wasn't that bad, indeed, and he was where he really belonged. It hadn't also gone unnoticed to Harry that Draco had advised their son to ask his classmates about some things, which would, definitely, be conductive to making friends. It would really make them aware that they'd got quite a clever new student, and Ravenclaws respected intelligence and individuality (which Narcissus undoubtedly had) very much, even more than loyalty or team spirit. _'Canny and clever, Draco! My sweetheart is a Slytherin throughout,'_ Harry smiled to himself.

"I promise, father," Narcissus sighed and nodded. Harry decided that it was time for him to make his contribution, too.

"May I have a word with you?" he said to his son.

"Secrets? From me?" Draco arched his brow, but smiled.

"I'll explain later, love," Harry smiled back sweetly. Draco was distracted, anyway, because Severus approached him to tell him something.

Meanwhile, Harry and Narcissus moved away from them a little to have a private talk.

"I wasn't intending to do it this soon; I was just thinking that, since Ravenclaws are known for being outstanding explorers and quite a curious folk, I have to give you some things that would help," Harry said.

"What things?" Narcissus looked curious. He'd had a lot of presents today. Was there something else for him in store?

"Remember I showed you the magical map? It's yours now. And the invisibility cloak, too," Harry smiled. The boy's face beamed with the surprised smile, as father gave him said treasures.

"Thank you, father." They hugged.

"I'd say 'use them wisely', but I know they are in good hands," Harry said with a smile, kissing the top of his son's head. He heard Snape telling Draco not to brew any potions and promised him to send everything Draco needed, but Narcissus hadn't heard it, obviously. When Severus turned to leave to the head table, fathers and their boy were together again. Narcissus looked more encouraged now.

"All right, son, we have to leave now. Remember what I told you to do, please. And don't be upset. It's your first day here. Enjoy it; and I want you to know that we're very proud of you," Draco said, hugging his son.

"It's true," Harry smiled.

"Thank you. I'll do my best," the boy nodded. Draco pressed their son's head to his own upper stomach lovingly. Harry joined the hug.

"Are you trying to discredit me in front of the entire school?" the boy murmured jokingly, hugging both fathers back, however. It was quite a sweet scene to watch. "And, breaking the rules, you also set a bad example to all the children here," he purred, enjoying the closeness. "Even you," he added, looking up at Draco innocently.

"Hey, what does it mean?" Harry gasped with the mock frown. "Sounds like Draco is just so decent and proper, and I'm a bad influence all the time."

"That was a joke," Narcissus smiled.

"Oh, that Ravenclawish humour..." Harry teased.

"Dad..." Narcissus frowned.

"Oh, sorry, son; I didn't mean to touch a sore spot," Harry kept bantering. "As for our effort to discredit you, as you so nicely called your parents' display of affection, no one's really looking at us right now. They're too busy with Sorting."

"We really have to leave, darling. Go celebrate your first day," Draco smiled and kissed his son's temple. Narcissus pressed his ear to his chest, slightly coming up on his tiptoes, but it was too noisy in the Great Hall to hear the heartbeat, though he faintly felt it.

"All right. I'll write you tomorrow," he promised when fathers had let him go reluctantly.

"Please, do. We definitely want to know everything," Draco nodded. "Behave, darling."

After saying their goodbyes Narcissus returned to the table of his house. At least, he was in much higher spirits now. His fathers left the Great Hall.

"I already miss him," Draco whined, as they were walking down the corridor unhurriedly.

"Oh, love, we'll see him very soon," Harry cooed and kissed his cheek.

"I know. He's just growing up too fast, and I still want to baby over him."

"You're doing well without it. That was brilliant. Very Slytherin of you."

"Thanks, but it was nothing special; merely an easy way to stir the nature of any typical Ravenclaw. Narcissus has quite an inquisitive mind, so it might work. And yes, I am a Slytherin; glad you remembered."

"I never forget it. Speaking of Slytherins... I suddenly have the urge to go to the dungeons," the dark-haired man winked.

"I thought you missed the Gryffindor's tower. Why dungeons?" Draco asked.

"Well, I don't know. I wouldn't mind to visit a certain room where I dealt with your virginity," Harry purred into his ear. Draco laughed.

"Why? Do you seriously believe you'll be able to perform my defloration for the second time?"

"Who knows?" Harry teased.

"Well, sorry, we don't have a password."

"Right... How sad. Then I'll have to perform it at home. Or..."

"Or?"

"I know a beautiful, secluded place near the lake."

"And... exactly how many unsuspecting boys have you brought there?"

"You'll be the first one."

"Good answer for the one who doesn't want to be drowned in that lake."

"A murder out of jealousy? I always knew you were that romantic."

"Lead the way."

"So easy? I don't even need to persuade you! Tsk."

"Yes, you're this irresistible."

Teasing each other, flirting and laughing, they left the castle. They'd missed Hogwarts; it was especially obvious now that every single soul was in the Great Hall, and they seemed to be alone in the entire place, like it belonged only to them. It was nice to be there alone, so they decided to make a small excursion to see if anything had changed. Nothing had.

They both were thinking the same, sighing at the fact that they would never be students here again, would never be children again. But then internally they both came to a conclusion that they wouldn't have traded their current life for anything, because they both had accepted their past, each his own, and had turned several pages since then. There was a new one ahead of them, and many more.

_**The End**_

_**Please, review to make me know if you enjoyed the end or not :).**_

Not sure if it's good or sad that this story is over, but that doesn't mean I don't have other ideas. I think you'll hear from me again and there are going to be other stories :).

Thanks for so many reviews and favs! I'm very glad that you enjoyed reading it!

Have fun.

Evil Concubine.


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